Survival of the Fallen
by Telcontar Rulz
Summary: The world has changed; vampires and mutants now walk side by side with human beings and things have not always been smooth. After the turbulent events of the past few years, Marie goes to Louisiana to stay with her cousins. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing.
1. Family

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you recognize. X-Men characters belong to Marvel and 2oth Century Fox. True Blood characters belong to HBO and Charlaine Harris.

This is set in an alternative universe after True Blood season one, where there is no Maenad, and after all three X-Men movies. Note that this is **mostly ****TV-verse and Movie-verse only**. I am not basing my X-Men characters on the comics.

**Chapter 1: Family**

She'd left him a note; just one piece of lined notebook paper, slipped under his door. He must have been deeply asleep because he had not heard her. There was not much on that piece of paper, although he could sense that there was more that she had wanted to say, only that she had not been able to put her thoughts down in words. In the end, she had left those words unsaid. Logan unfolded the note again and read the few lines, written in Marie's large round hand.

"Dear Logan," it read.

_I need a break. I don't know how to tell you this, but I need to get away. I have some family in Bon Temps, Louisiana, and I've written to them asking them if I coul stay with them for a while until I figure out what to do with the rest of my life and they agreed. I've never met them but I think I'll like them. I'll write again once I'm there_.

_All my love, _

_Marie_

He understood her need to get away. So much had happened to her in the past couple of years. To be quite honest, he was surprised she had held out for so long. But Logan was Logan, and he would be damned before he let her go off into the world alone. Heck, he had to at least make sure that her relatives were actually decent people first. Yes, he knew she was nineteen years old and turning twenty in two months, but he couldn't help it. In his eyes, she was still that frightened girl who had sneaked onto his trailer, and he was not going to let her go out alone into a world with vampires and who knew what else in it. No, he was _not_ acting like an overprotective father, and if he was, he would die first before he would admit it.

It was summer. There was nothing for him to do here since all the students were either at home or overseas on a school trip to Greece and Italy. He pretty much had the entire mansion to himself, apart from Mystique, who now taught IT, and she didn't need him around. The last time he subbed one of her classes, he'd punched a computer screen in frustration and smashed it. She had not been impressed.

He slipped the note back into his pocket and grabbed his duffle bag, which had been lying beside his door. Opening his drawers, he pulled out a few handfuls of clothes –shirts, singlets, jeans, socks– and stuffed them into the bag. He grabbed his leather jacket from where it had been hanging on the back of his door and slung that over his shoulder. The keys of his motorcycle were in one of the jacket's pockets; he'd heard them jingling. Oh yeah, he'd need some cash too. Logan reached into the back of his wardrobe and lifted up one of the floorboards. He trusted neither banks nor credit card companies, preferring to keep wads of cash on hand. His fingers made contact with the old cookie tin that held all his cash and then put that in his bag too. Now he was ready to enjoy a proper southern summer.

* * *

It was impossible not to notice the sultry heat after having lived in Upper State New York for so long. The air shimmered. Marie shaded her eyes with her hand –her ungloved hand. The sun was so bright that she could hardly keep her eyes open against the glare. The van she had come in drove off, leaving clouds of dust behind it and it roared into the distance like a rattling metal beast well past its prime. The faded sign with peeling paint told her that she was in the right place; Bon Temps, a sleepy little town where her cousins Jason and Sookie lived. Sookie was the one who had written to her, telling her that she was more than welcome to stay for a little while. Her cousins' grandmother, her great aunt, had died a few weeks ago under the most gruesome of circumstances, leaving her house to Sookie.

Marie re-adjusted her backpack. Right. She was alone in Louisiana; how bad could it be? After all, she'd faced death a couple of times now, and she'd lived through all of those encounters. Nothing could be more dangerous than being kidnapped by Magneto, right? The directions Sookie had given her were precise. Turn right here, go to this sign, turn right again. It wasn't long before she found herself standing in the parking lot of a friendly looking pub. Well, she assumed it was a parking lot, since there were a lot of dusty cars there, but it had no painted lines. It didn't even have concrete. It was just a patch of…well, dirt.

"Merlotte's," she read out aloud to herself. Yes, she was in the right place. Her cousin worked here as a waitress, apparently; there were definitely worse places to work. Hell, she'd stayed the night in much seedier bars. Taking a deep breath, Marie pushed open the wooden doors with glass panes and walked inside. The murmur of conversation the shouts of the waitresses and the cooks were welcoming. One of the waitresses, a woman with flaming red locks, stopped in front of her and looked her up and down with an expression of complete confusion on her face.

"Sookie?" she said. "But I jus' saw you back there with Sam! And what the hell have you done to your hair?"

Marie self-consciously reached up to touch her hair, knowing it was the pure white which had elicited such a reaction, but she stopped herself in time. She had nothing to be ashamed of. "I'm not Sookie, but I am looking for her," she said. "I'm her cousin from Mississippi."

"Cousin?" said the waitress. "You two ought to be twins! Sookie! Your cousin's here!"

"About time!" For a moment, Marie thought she was looking at her older blonder self. The waitress was right; she and Sookie could definitely be twins. Yes, she had seen a picture of her beforehand, but the likeness had not really come out. "Marie…? Wow, I have a stunt double! I'm glad you made it to the bar okay. I'd have picked you up but it's Sunday afternoon and kinda busy."

"It's all right," said Marie, rather taken aback by the warm welcome. She supposed she was used to being isolated from others by now. "I hitchhiked from Mississippi to Canada so finding Merlotte's wasn't really a problem for me."

"Now that must be some story," said the other waitress. "Oh, silly me. I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Arlene, and I'd shake your hand if I weren't carryin' two full trays."

"I'm Marie," said Marie. She found herself smiling, partly because she was nervous and partly because she felt she was going to like it here. "But I guess you heard it the first time."

"Well, it was nice meetin' ya, Marie," said Arlene, "but I gotta take these to the tables before the boys over there starve to death." With that, she left to deal with her impatient customers.

"Can I get you anythin'?" asked Sookie. "I've still got an hour till I get off work, but you can have a drink if you want. On the house. Non-alcoholic, of course, seein' as you're still a minor and this is a licensed bar."

"I'll have a lemonade and…your special?" said Marie.

"Well, you can look at the menu first before you decide," said Sookie with a laugh. "The special today's the Lafayette and I don't want to know what Lafayette –our fry cook– has actually put in it."

* * *

They had a quiet family dinner that night. Marie met her other cousin, Jason, and also Sookie's boyfriend, who turned out to be a vampire. Vampire Bill, some of the locals called him. "You're not one of those vampire haters, are you?" Sookie had asked her.

"Sookie, I'm a mutant," Marie had told her. "I know better than most about how it feels to be discriminated against and I wouldn't wish it on anybody."

"Perfect, then," her cousin had said. "I'm sure you'll like Bill, then."

Sookie was right. She did like Bill; he was the sort of gentleman who only seemed to exist in old-fashioned movies like _Gone With the Wind. _In fact, he did bear a lot of resemblances to Rhett Butler, from that neatly combed hair to the tidy sharp cut clothes, although Rhett Butler had not subsisted on a diet of synthetic blood. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that Bill actually lived through the Civil War. No wonder Sookie had fallen for him; men just didn't come like that anymore.

* * *

_Vampires, mutants…who knows what the world is coming to? They're abominations, all of them. They're not supposed to exist. Humans were created in God's image. These…I don't know what they are, but they sure ain't human. All this talk about tolerance and co-existence. It's all bullshit. If it were up to me, I'd lock 'em all away deep underground with stakes in their hearts for good measure. They're unnatural. Monsters. They deserve to be killed. And how can you kill a vampire when it's not even properly alive? The liberals have something wrong in their heads if they think that bloodsuckers and creatures with supernatural powers deserve to walk among decent folk. The government's been corrupted, and now it's up to the people to make things right._

_People like me. _

* * *

Marie had not expected him to come. Well, perhaps she had expected it, but not so soon. All eyes turned to him as soon as he strode through the door of Merlotte's, covered in dust and with his hair sticking up in two peaks in its usual fashion. His presence commanded attention. Sam, the owner of the bar, had hired her to be a part time waitress on Sookie's recommendation. She was much too educated for such a job, but she found she rather liked it, and it wasn't without its own perks and challenges. After all, it took skill to balance a laden tray _and_ carry a jug of beer without spilling it. "Well, this is cosy," he said, looking around.

"Logan!" said Marie. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" She set down the glass she'd been cleaning and ran to him, her arms around him.

"I had to make sure you're okay, kid," said Logan, giving her an awkward one-armed hug. He had never been that great at open affection. "And it wasn't that hard. I had the town's name and your cousin's name."

"How did you know my cousin's name?" asked Marie.

"You mentioned them to me once," said Logan.

"I thought you weren't listening."

"I was listenin'! I just happened to be cheerin' at a hockey game on T.V. a the same time!"

"Well, I'm glad you listened," said Marie, finally letting go of him.

"Who's your friend, Marie?" called Sookie from behind the bar.

Marie introduced them without going into too much detail about how she'd met Logan; that was a long story and she wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal her life's tale to her cousin yet. Logan soon became a favourite at the bar because he out-drank all the men, made a couple of crude jokes that they could all appreciate and ordered the largest meal anyone had ever attempted to eat. And then he'd eaten it all. His rapid metabolism needed a lot of fuel. Luckily, no mention of claws ever came up. Marie was grateful that no one apart from her cousins knew that she and Logan were mutants, because she doubted that they would have been so welcoming if they had known. Vampires might have been brave enough to reveal themselves, but mutants were generally much easier to kill than vampires, unless one happened to be the Wolverine, and why give others a reason to discriminate when they could hide what made them so different?

* * *

**A/N:** Well, here's the beginning. I've no idea what's going to happen next, but something's bound to come up.


	2. Enemy of My Enemy

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of _X-Men_ or _True Blood_. They belong to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.**

NB: This is mostly based on the _X-Men_ movies and the _True Blood_ television show, with only a few elements of the original comics and books. I am not trying to follow the original material, that is to say the printed version. This is also an alternate universe.

**Chapter 2: Enemy of My Enemy**

Well, Logan approved of Marie's cousin Sookie, as far as he could tell, and he had great instincts, he had to say. One didn't survive for as long as he did without having a knack for being able to tell whether others meant him harm or not. Of course, being almost indestructible helped, but that was another point entirely. The main thing was that Logan had never really had prove just how indestructible he was apart from one or two times. All right, maybe seven or eight. He ordered another beer. It was growing dark outside but he was in no mood to go and find a motel just yet. He'd passed one on his way, actually, and it looked as if it had a lot of rooms vacant, anyway, so accommodation was not a problem. Sookie brought him his drink within a minute. "I'd have thought you'd be less than sober by now, Mister Howlett, with the amount you've been drinkin'," she said as she set down his bottle of Molson's on a clean napkin.

"What can I say?" said Logan as he took a sip of his beer. "I've got great tolerance. An' call me Logan, please. Mister Howlett makes me feel so old."

Sookie laughed. Yes, even if she didn't look as if she could be Marie's blonde twin, he would have been able to tell that they were related. They both had the same laugh, although Marie was not half as cheerful. "Well, you are pretty old," she said, and she wasn't really teasing him. Logan could tell. And he could feel something at the edge of his consciousness, something like…

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Oh, never mind," said Sookie hurriedly. The girl looked spooked. She glanced around to see if anyone else had heard their exchange. Marie was busy fetching extra napkins for a family of four children. One of the kids had spilled a drink. The other waitress was taking orders and the bartender was shouting at the cook.

"No, you'd better tell me," said Logan, not being as friendly now. The girl was not normal. He didn't have anything against people being abnormal –he wasn't in a position to discriminate– but he definitely didn't like it when people hid the truth from him, whether it was simply by lying or by not telling him. To him, they were one and the same.

"Why should I?" Sookie wasn't sounding so friendly either. In fact, she sounded very defensive.

"Sookie!" That was the cook. "Chicken salad!"

"This ain't over, kid," said Logan.

Sookie gave him one last hostile look and stalked away.

* * *

She cursed herself for having said anything to that man. She knew he was watching her with eyes that reminded her of a predator on the defensive. Somehow, she'd provoked him, and he was dangerous. She'd glimpsed that much from his thoughts. His mind wasn't very easy to read. She'd only seen a couple of jumbled images. If she hadn't inherited an enthusiasm for history from her grandmother, she would not have recognized that image of him fighting in the War of Northern Aggression, better known as the American Civil War. He'd been a Union soldier. That in itself raised her suspicions. Here he was, a seemingly normal human being –he'd eaten human food and his mind didn't read like that of a shifter– and yet he'd lived much longer than any human being ought to have without his age showing. It was as if he was a vampire, but alive, able to walk in sunlight, and…he had claws.

Sookie almost dropped her tray. Claws? Seriously? She quickly set down the chicken salad before the customer who'd ordered it, gave said customer a small smile and ran off to find Marie, or she would have if Bill hadn't walked in through the door. "Sookie," he said, giving her a brilliant smile. Well, as brilliant a smile as Bill could give. Bill wasn't much of a smiler unlike his boss who was the last person Sookie wanted to think about at the moment. The smile faded when he saw Sookie's expression. "Darling, what's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I'll tell you later, but I have to find Marie," she said. Bill opened his mouth to say something, but at that very moment, Sookie spotted her cousin and she departed abruptly, leaving her boyfriend –boy was pushing it, since Bill was a century and a half old, but that was the term– staring at her back in concern.

"Marie, I need to talk to you," she said. Her cousin looked a bit startled.

"Sookie, what's wrong?" asked the younger girl.

"Ladies room," murmured Sookie. She ushered Marie into the small bathroom and closed the door behind her. It was rather cramped in there. She leaned against the door whilst her cousin looked at her oddly. Now, how to begin?

"Really, Sookie, you're scarin' me," said Marie. "What's going on?"

"Your friend, what is he?" Sookie blurted out. All right, perhaps she could have worded it better. This sounded like what Jason would have said.

"I don't know what you mean," said Marie.

"Look, you know I said I have some kind of disability, right? Well, I didn't want to scare you at the time coz we'd just met, but I'm a telepath, and when I glimpsed your friend's mind, I saw some really disturbin' things."

"You went a looked inside Logan's head?" Marie sounded very hostile. "Without his permission?"

"I had to make sure that he wasn't a danger to anybody!"

"Says the girl with a vampire for a boyfriend," said Marie. "Look, if you really want to know what Logan is, then you can go ask him yourself, and I bet he knew you were looking inside his head because he's good at sensing these things so I think you owe him an apology."

"Maybe I do," said Sookie, "but the man has claws!"

"Is that any reason to discriminate against him and probe his mind without his permission?"

"Of course not–wait, you knew?"

Marie gave her a look. "Of course I knew," she said. "I've seen them, his claws. An' he's just like me."

"He's a mutant? They come with claws?"

"They come with a whole lot more than that. Logan's one of my best friends. There's hardly anything he knows about himself that I don't know."

"You know how freaky that sounds, right? You bein' best friends with a man who's as old as…well, Bill."

"And you're dating Bill." Marie crossed her arms.

"Fine, I get your point," said Sookie. Oh, Jesus Christ! This was embarrassing. 'That should teach you, Sookie Stackhouse,' she thought to herself. This new world of mutants and supes was just too strange at times. Who knew what else was out there? Fairies? Werewolves? Elves? Ents? (Yes, she had quite enjoyed _The Lord of the Rings._) She really should not have been so quick to jump to conclusions. "So…uh…I guess I should go out and explain to your friend."

Marie nodded, and then she stilled. "Maybe I should go with you," said the younger woman. "Logan's…not known for his good temper. He made the kids in detention do his laundry."

* * *

Logan narrowed his eyes as he stared at the pale brooding man with dark hair. The man stared right back without blinking. Usually, people were intimidated by the Wolverine's stare. Logan took a swig of his beer and considered ordering pizza and garlic bread. However, he seemed to have scared off his waitress. Marie and Sookie emerged from the ladies' room. The former looked amused and the latter looked, well, embarrassed. "Logan, you got a minute to come outside?" said Marie.

"Sure thing, kid," said Logan. "I got loads o' time."

"What's wrong, Sookie?" said the pale man.

"Nothin'," said Sookie. "It's just a misundestanding."

"What sort of misunderstanding?" said the pale man.

"Why don't you come along, Bill?" said Marie. "You don't mind, do you, Logan?"

"I can't exactly mind if I don't know what's goin' on, kid," said Logan.

The four of them went outside into the relatively cooler night air. Apart from the chorus of bullfrogs and bugs, the murmur of conversation from the bar and the sound of someone having sex on the ground somewhere in the distance, the parking lot was quiet. "Look, Mister Howl–Logan," began Sookie. "I'm sorry I read your mind. I don't usually do that but you felt different and I had to make sure you weren't dangerous."

"Too bad, kid, coz I am dangerous," said Logan. Marie raised an eyebrow at him. "But apology accepted," he added. "So I guess you realized that I've got more to me than meets the eye?" That obviously had an inappropriate connotation because the pale man–Bill– had placed himself in front of Sookie in an instant, almost as if he'd, well, teleported.

"You will treat Sookie with respect," growled the man.

"And you'll get out of my face, bub," Logan growled back.

"Bill! Logan!" said Sookie.

"Guys, just back down," said Marie. She approached them warily. "This is all just another misunderstanding and we don't want anyone gettin' killed here."

"A bit late for that, Miss Marie," said Bill. Miss Marie? Really? What century did this guy come from? "I'm already dead."

"Wait a minute…" said Logan. He narrowed his eyes at Bill as an idea formed in his mind. "You're a real living vampire!"

"Is he serious?" asked Bill.

Logan might not have been the brightest guy there was, but Marie didn't like it when people implied he was stupid, because he definitely was not. He just tended not to think, and given his circumstances, what with the amnesia and the nightmares and what had happened in the past few years, it wasn't hard to understand his reluctance to think. She scowled at Bill, who realized his mistake. "I apologize," he said.

"It's an oxymoron," said Logan. "Literary device. I was helpin' to mark the English papers before I came." It was Marie's turn to be shocked. Just because she knew Logan was smart in his own way didn't mean she thought he could, well, mark essays. No one let him mark essays because he never actually read them. He must have caught the look on her face because he grinned. "It was the multi-choice part. Ain't nobody in the world that can mess it up, right?"

"Until you get bored with matching up the answers, Logan," said Marie.

The rest of the evening would have gone on fine had the television in Merlotte's not been turned on. Unfortunately, it was a bar and therefore the television was almost alway on, unless there was actually no one in the bar. Thus, the evening was effectively ruined when the newsreader announced that Congress had passed new laws to protect 'good regular citizens' from 'non-humans'.

* * *

The violence started soon after that. Mutants had been harrassed, both by citizenry and by authorities. The news suddenly carried dozens of reports about vampires killing humans, no doubt to convince everyone else in the country that the government was right to introduce such laws. Nan Flanagan, the spokeswoman for vampires on television, had been assaulted with questions that had been twisted to portray vampires in a bad way. Senator Hank McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs, had 'resigned', although it was more likely that he had been sacked. Logan thought he would call Hank to find out the minute details when he was less likely to crush his phone in anger. No, he still hadn't registered himself as a mutant yet, even though the law required it. He wasn't sure he was ever going to do it. If regular people didn't have to register specific genetic traits, then he didn't see why he had to either.

Now that the laws had been passed, he wasn't sure if he ought to leave Marie alone in Louisiana. What if she got harrassed because her cousin was dating a vampire? Marie had made it quite obvious that she had no problem with that, and that she even considered Bill to be a friend, which he was. No, he had to stay. He lay on the bed in his motel room. Usually, he'd have been watching television, but lately that just made his blood boil. Boredom was better than growing angry at what he could not change. The majority of the population supported it. Even the international communitysupported it. There was nothing a bunch of minorities, undead or otherwise, could do about it. He'd much rather save his energy for survival.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need a ringtone; those nauseatingly cheerful and electric tunes merely annoyed him. He would rather not assault his sensitive hearing with such noise pollution. He considered sending the message straight to voicemail but when the caller ID indicated that the call came from the school, he knew he just had to answer it.

"Yeah," he said, after placing is phone to his ear.

"Logan, it's me," said Mystique. She was a metamorph; a mutant who could change her appearance according to her will. Usually, she went with blue scaly skin, red hair and no clothing, although she had been obliged to wear clothes in the school. Children did not need to see their teachers naked and teenaged boys could certainly do without the distraction of her…uh…assets. "They've closed the school."

"They've _what_?" He was sitting upright in a second. His blood was roaring past his ears and anger made his vision hazy. They couldn't do that! Where would all the kids go? Most of them had run away. Theschool _was _their home now!

"Don't shout in my ear," said the woman on the other end of the line. She sounded annoyed, as she had every right to be. "I might not have your hearing, but I'm not deaf."

"What are we gonna do? Those kids have nowhere to go!"

"Why do you think I'd be calling you if I had any idea?" said Mystique. "Storm's called me. They can't leave Europe until their papers have been cleared, and God knows how long that will take, given the fact that every other country seems to have been waiting for the signal to pass their registration laws all at once. Do you want me to try and locate Erik?"'

Erik meant Erik Lensherr, the metal mangling militant mutant who liked to throw Logan around. Literally. However, considering the fact that everything had gone to hell already, what harm could there be in making friends with the devil? "Do it," he said. "We've already got too many enemies." He hung up without saying goodbye. He was never very good at saying goodbye, and he was much too busy thinking. They really did have too many enemies surrounding them in every direction. Congress, the Senate, the media, their neighbours. They needed more allies. And since the laws targeted not only mutants, but vampires as well… Well, the vampires were very powerful. He didn't know much about them but he knew that they were strong. However, they were not altogether invincible, since they could only operate after dark, leaving them extremely vulnerable during the day. Mutants, as a group, were probably neither as organized nor as strong, but they did have the advantage of not burning to a crisp in the sun. Perhaps if they joined forces…

Logan checked the sky. It would soon be dark, which was just as well, because he needed to pay Bill Compton an urgent visit.

* * *

**A/N:** We've seen the introduction of one Erik, although probably not the one everyone wants to see. The other Eric will pop in soon.


	3. Alpha

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of _X-Men_ or _True Blood_. They belong to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.**

NB: This is mostly based on the _X-Men_ movies and the _True Blood_ television show, with only a few elements of the original comics and books. I am not trying to follow the original material, that is to say the printed version. This is also an alternate universe

**Chapter 3: Alpha**

She was just sitting on Sookie's sofa, listening to the radio and filing her nails when she felt it. It wasn't a strong sensation –just a sudden but slight surge of warmth, really– but it was enough. She knew. Her power, her gift, her curse; it was back. She had known there was every chance in the world that the Cure might not be permanent, and she had thought she would be able to handle it. She'd been wrong. She dropped the nail-file and flexed her fingers, staring at her hands as if they were not her own. They looked so ordinary, her hands; slender, but not skeletal, with short neat fingernails –she had never mastered the art of the self-manicure– and a few freckles on the back. One could simply not imagine that they could kill someone all on their own.

Marie suddenly burst into tears. After everything she had been through, everything she had tried, she still had killer skin. There was no escaping it. She was doomed to be isolated from everyone else forever, at least physically. She heard the front door open. "Marie?" called Sookie. Being a telepath, her cousin must have sensed that something was wrong, especially since Marie had made no effort to hide her emotions. Sookie came into the living room and immediately dropped her things. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"

The younger woman jerked away as Sookie tried to hug her. "Don't touch me!" she cried. "I don't want to hurt anybody…"

"Marie, you're not going to hurt anybody," said Sookie cautiously, easing herself onto the couch beside her cousin, but taking care not to get too close in case Marie had something against proximity to other human beings, as she seemed to at the moment. "But you have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if I don't know how."

"It's back," sobbed Marie. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "If I touch anybody, I'll kill them."

Sookie didn't know what to say to that, and all she could tell was that her cousin was both furious and in despair. She got a glimpse of a boy collapsing on a bed, frothing at the mouth and as pale as a vampire, with all his veins showing up starkly beneath his translucent skin. This was one of Marie's memories, she realized, but it didn't exactly make the matter any clearer. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

"I'll suck out their life if I touch them," said Marie in between hiccups. "I almost killed Cody, and I almost killed Logan. Twice!" It was hard to imagine tiny shy Marie managing to kill a man like Logan, although her recent dealings with vampires had taught her that appearances meant very little.

"But you didn't," said Sookie. She wanted very much to hug her cousin, but she also did not want to end up frothing at the mouth and unconscious. She awkwardly placed an arm around Marie's shoulders.

"I can't touch anyone," said Marie. A new torrent of tears started. "I just want to be able to…to have physical contact. I want to be able to give someone a hug or a kiss. Is that so much?"

"Of course it isn't, honey," said Sookie. This was getting very uncomfortable. She did not know Marie nearly well enough. "Hey, listen, is there anyone you want to talk to? Maybe your…" She trailed off. Marie had been estranged from her own family for a very long time. In fact, her cousin had implied that her parents had wanted her to run away.

Marie sniffed. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind taking me to see Logan?" she asked in a small voice, sounding much younger than her nineteen years.

"Of course it's not too much trouble," said Sookie. "Come on. You go clean up yourself a bit and I'll just get changed."

Logan wasn't in his motel room. "Have you got his number?" asked Sookie.

"Sure I do," said Marie, mustering a small quavering smile for the sake of her cousin. She was spooking poor Sookie, she knew. Skin that sucked life force was much freakier than bloodsucking vampires, she had to say. "I just hope he hasn't lost his phone again."

Luckily for her, he hadn't, and he answered on the first ring. "Yeah," he said.

"Logan, where are you?" Marie blurted out. Right, so that sounded clingy and needy. Logan, however, was immediately aware that there was something wrong.

"I'm at Bill Compton's," he said. "Listen, is anythin' wrong? Is someone after you?"

"No, no one's after me," said Marie. "Can I meet you there, please?"

"Sure you don't want me to come and get you, kid? You're at your cousin's place, right?"

"No, but don't worry. Sookie'll take me to Bill's. She's here with me."

"All right, kid."

Marie ended the call and pocketed her cellphone again. Sookie was looking at her oddly. "Why is Logan at Bill's?" she asked.

"He didn't tell me," said Marie. "But I guess we'll find out soon." There was a sick feeling at the bottom of her stomach. This wasn't normal behaviour for Logan to actively go and visit someone he barely knew, vampire or not. Usually, the Wolverine kept to himself. He was not what they called a 'people person'. When Logan was being sociable, it usually meant that he had an ulterior motive, and Marie could not, for the life of her, guess what it was this time.

* * *

Bill pondered Logan's proposition. He was in no position to make an decisions, of course, but in light of recent events, he found the man's suggestion to be rather sensible. The only problem was getting other vampires to agree with him. The most logical person for them to approach was Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five, who was based in the nearby city of Shreveport. If they could secure Eric's support, then it would be easier to take the idea to the vampire ruling elite. Now, how to present this to Eric? The Viking had never shown much respect for living people or thir ideas, although Bill had a feeling that he would be interested in Logan's apparent immortality, and that interest could just tip the balance in their favour. Bill himself was curious about Sookie's cousin's friend. He smelled different from other humans, even other mutants. Of course, he hadn't met very many identifiable mutants.

Logan came back in from outside, having shut his phone. "Marie's comin' over with Sookie," he said. "They wouldn't tell me what's goin' on."

"I daresay they will tell us soon enough," said Bill. "I sense that they are in no danger."

"Did you eavesdrop on my phone call, because I tell you, even if you do have great hearing, that's rude."

"I did not eavesdrop, Mr. Howlett," said the vampire. "Gentlemen do not eavesdrop."

"Well, not without good reason, anyway," said Logan defensively.

"In that case, Mr. Howlett, I would say it is information seeking, and not eavesdropping," said Bill. "Totally different things. The former is completely respectable, and noble, even."

"Aren't vampires supposed to be depraved, primal, impulsive, instinctive, and amoral?" said Logan.

"I believe you have either been listening to the anti-vampire groups too much or watching too many vampire films," said Bill with a smile. He was not offended; many people thought that way about vampires. "Hollywood, whilst entertaining, is not a good source of factual information. That being said, there are many vampires who are indeed without morals or consciences. They have lost their humanity."

"Hey, there ain't nuthin' wrong with bein' primal and instinctive as long as you keep control over your actions," said Logan. "Sometimes, primal instincts can save lives." The vampire was surprised. Logan had not seemed like much of a deep thinker, and yet he seemed to understand this very well. Then he remembered that Logan had been a soldier, and it all made much more sense. They would have gone further with this discussion if there hadn't been a knock on the door.

Logan leapt up from his seat, but Bill was already opening the door. The mutant might be a living immortal being, but he still had the advantage of speed. It was good to know. Sookie kissed him on his smooth dry cheek. Her lips were warm; a welcome contrast. "I hope we didn't come at an inconvenient time," she said.

"No, of course not," said Bill. "Come in. Can I get you anything to drink?" He looked from Sookie to her cousin. Marie looked as though she'd been crying for a while. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

"Kid?" said Logan from behind him. The girl pushed past her cousin and Bill and ran up to the man, but instead of flinging her arms around him as Bill had expected her to do –modern young women seemed to do a lot of hugging– she simply stood there before him and burst into tears. "Hey, hey," said Logan, reaching out to slide his fingers under her chin. She jerked away from him.

"It's back," she sobbed as she wrapped her arms around herself.

* * *

She felt so cold and so alone, even though there was a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and Logan was holding her. The more practical part of her mind told her that she ought to stop feeling sorry for herself. At least there were people who cared about her. There were other mutants out there who had no one to care for them, no matter how hard they tried to fit into society. If the Cure wore off for her, then it surely wore off for the others too. Who was going to comfort them?

"I may have some gloves in storage," said Bill. "There are some boxes in the attic that I haven't looked at yet."

"Thanks, Bill," said Sookie.

"I'm glad to be able to help your cousin, Sookie," he said, inclining his head.

"No, really, bub," said Logan. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr. Howlett," said Bill. He paused. "Must you call me…'bub'?"

"I call everybody 'bub'," said Logan, looking surprised. "But if it bothers you so much, I'll stop."

"No, it does not bother me," said Bill. "I find it…amusing. It is such a funny word, 'bub'." Shaking his head, he went upstairs to find the gloves.

Marie dried her eyes with the corner of the blanket. "I hope you haven't infected him with the bub bug, Logan," she said shakily, trying to sound lighthearted and failing.

"He should learn some colloquialisms anyway, if he wants to fit in," said the Wolverine with a shrug.

"It's not so much a colloquialism as a Loganism," said the girl. "What made you come and visit Bill anyway?"

"Well…" began Logan. He seemed reluctant to disclose the content of his discussion with Bill before the girls had arrived.

"Come on," said Sookie. "You have to share, or else I'll just have to get it out of Bill."

"I s'pose there's no harm in tellin' you…" began Logan.

Marie's eyes widened as she listened to her friend. Logan was trying a diplomatic solution? Logan and diplomacy usually did not go together in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence, and yet here he was, talking about mutants joining forces with vampires and other sentient 'non-human' creatures out there to fight for their rights. Maybe he didn't sleep throughout the entire lesson when he'd subbed for political science. In the past, he'd usually advocated violent negotiations, having learned the term from one of the _Star Wars_ movies.

Bill came back downstairs with a pair of short lacy silk gloves. They used to be white but they had yellowed with age. "I'm sorry I couldn't find anything else," he said as he handed them over to Marie.

"These'll be just fine, Bill," said Marie as she took them. They looked so delicate, as if they would disintegrate if she didn't handle them carefully. What era were they from? Could they be from the days when the vampire had drawn breath in this house? "Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine," said Bill. "So, I see that Logan has told you of our plan. What do you think?"

"If we can get others to agree with us, then it'd be great," said Sookie. "Does that mean we're gonna have to take a trip to Shreveport soon?"

"I was thinking tonight, if you do not object," said Bill. "If we are to do this, then it would be best to get it done sooner rather than later, before all hope is lost."

"Well, what do you say, Cous?" said Sookie. "Do you fancy meetin' some more vampires?"

* * *

After driving Marie and Sookie back to Sookie's house so that the girls could get into more appropriate attire, they finally drove to Shreveport. Well, Bill drove. The vampire was an excellent driver, although he wasn't particularly good at following the rules. Just as well they were mostly on rural roads with very few other cars. Otherwise, they'd probably have been arrested for reckless driving. They pulled up in front of a nightclub, parking on the opposite side of the road because there were simply too many cars.

A nightclub. Logan hadn't expected that. Whenever someone mentioned vampires, he inevitably thought of castles and old mansions, or maybe caves with bats, or even Sesame Street, but definitely not a nightclub with a bright red neon sign saying 'Fangtasia'. He snorted out loud. Luckily, there were too many people clamouring to get in, or else the vampire at the door had simply chosen to ignore him. He wasn't sure why so many people were trying to get in. He'd been to better looking clubs than this, although the woman at the door was quite attractive, at least in this lighting and from this distance.

"Remember," said Bill as they got out of the car. "It's dangerous in there, so be careful what you say."

"We know, darlin'," said Sookie indulgently. "You reminded us sixteen times in the car. I counted."

"You might think I'm longwinded," said Bill, "but I cannot stress enough how important it is that we convince Eric to support us, not go against us, and under these circumstances, I doubt he would be in a very accomodating mood." He looked from Logan to Marie, and then back at Logan again. The Wolverine was beginning to feel a bit insulted. Did they really think that he had no filter between his brain and his mouth? He was just a bit more forthright than most people, that was all. He was getting a little impatient abut meeting this Northman. Bill made him sound like as if he were the vampire version of Darth Vader, or maybe the queen of hearts in _Alice in Wonderland_. Logan was used to people exaggerating for effect. Surely vampires could not be that much different.

"Bill, Sookie," said the vampire at the door. Up close, Logan could see the lines on her face. She was certainly formidable and glamourous, if one was into stilettos and tight leather dresses, but her face bore the marks of her former life. "How lovely to see you. And you brought friends–My, Sookie. You never told me you had a twin." Logan didn't like the way the vampire was looking at Marie, as if she was some morsel to be tasted. Actually, they _were_ vamp food. He moved just a bit closer to Marie and glared at the vampire.

"Pam," said Bill. "We're here to see Eric."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No," said Bill. "There was no time. This is urgent."

"The Sheriff is very busy, as you well know," said the vampire called Pam. She looked at Bill and his companions, contemplating them. Marie had her borrowed gloves on, and together with the floral sundress that she'd borrowed from her cousin, she looked as if she was attending Sunday service rather than going into a vampire nightclub. The female vampire sniffed the air, and then smiled, showing her fangs. "Then again, I'm sure he can make time to see you. Follow me." She turned on her heel as if she was gliding on ice and led them inside.

Inside, it was just like any other nightclub Logan had been to, filled with drunks and people high on drugs. Coloured lights flashed, making him feel dizzy. The music was loud, but not unacceptably loud. It might have had something to do with the fact that the vampires also had sensitive hearing. Pam led them through the maze of tables, sometimes pushing the less-than-sober out of her way. All the humans seemed to want to touch a vampire. She pushed those out of the way too.

"What's the appeal in becomin' a vampire snack?" whispered Logan to Bill.

"View it as an act of…carnal desire," said the vampire. He looked very tense. And then, he stopped. Logan stopped too, although he wasn't sure why they had stopped. He looked in the direction they were all staring at. Sitting on what looked like an illuminated throne was a tall man with a slicked back mane of golden hair. He was watching them with an unblinking gaze, which was rather disturbing in a way. There was no doubt as to who this was.

* * *

Marie could not help but stare at the golden vampire as he crooked one finger at them, giving them permission to approach him. She suddenly felt insignificant. Those fingers, so relaxed now, could easily snap her in half. "I got your back, kid," she heard Logan murmur. "It's gonna be fine."

"Bill Compton," said the man. His accented voice was low and husky, but firm. "How fortuitous it is that you should decide to come here tonight. I was about to call you, as I have need of Sookie's services. And Sookie, it's always good to see you. I hope you enjoyed your break." Beside her, Marie could sense her cousin tensing, not in fear, but in irritation.

"I'm afraid that, as much as I would hate to admit it, I've come to ask a favour of you, Sheriff," said Bill, giving the other vampire a stiff nod.

"Well, what is it?" said Eric. He leaned forward in his seat, putting his fingers together as he waited for Bill to speak. That was when he finally acknowledged the presence of the two mutants. "Who are your friends, Bill?" he asked.

"This is Sookie's cousin Marie, and that there is her friend, Logan," said Bill. His voice was not friendly. It wasn't hard to tell that he and Eric did not like each other. Marie was not surprised. She wasn't sure she could like Eric either. His manner might have appealed to some women, but not her. She preferred men who knew the meaning of humility.

"A cousin?" said Eric. He regarded the younger woman with some interest. A bit too much interest for her liking. She felt as if he could see everything she was thinking about. His eyes were so deeply set and so dark in this dim light. She clenched her gloved hands and willed herself not to shiver. "You never said you had a cousin, Sookie." His eyes never left her, and although she wanted to look away, she couldn't. Well, not until he finally released her from his gaze and turned to face Bill again. "Pam told me you have important business to discuss with me," he said, as if he had not gone off on a complete tangent.

"Yes," said Bill. "But I think it would be better if Mr. Howlett here explained it, because the idea belongs to him."

For the first time, Eric turned his attention to Logan. The two men regarded each other for a long while, each assessing the other thoroughly. Since Eric was sitting down, it was hard to tell who was taller, but they both had equally broad shoulders and well pronounced muscles. Of course, Logan was hairier but Marie thought that it didn't count. His sideburns weren't going to help him win a fight. "Well, Bill," said Eric finally. "You certainly have some interesting friends." He stood slowly and straightened himself to his full impressive height. If Logan's hair hadn't been so peculiarly styled, the vampire would definitely have been the taller one. "Well, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about? I haven't got all night."

"It's about the new laws, bub," said Logan. Marie could tell that he was trying very hard to keep his temper in check. Logan wasn't a man who could tolerate being ignored or looked down upon. "I was thinkin'–"

"Did he just call me 'bub'?" said Eric.

"Yeah, I did," said Logan. "You got a problem with that?"


	4. Politics

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. _X-Men_ characters belong to Marvel and 2oth Century Fox. _True Blood_ characters belong to HBO and Charlaine Harris.**

_This is set in an alternative universe after True Blood season one, where there is no Maenad, and after all three X-Men movies._

**Chapter 4: Politics**

Why was it that Bill Compton always associated with the oddest sorts? First it was a telepath, and now mutants. Eric snarled at the man called Logan, baring his fangs. Any sane being, human or vampire, would have known to be careful then, but not this mutant. He snarled right back at Eric, baring very human looking teeth, but it wasn't the teeth that surprised the vampire. The quiet ring of metal could barely be heard above the music, but it was clear enough to vampire hearing. He glanced down. Metal claws were sliding out from between the man's knuckles. They were not silver -he'd been a vampire long enough to know the smell of silver- but of a metal that he had never encountered before in the millennia that he'd walked this earth.

"You wanna fight, vampire?" growled the man.

The others watched the sheriff with some apprehension. Bill was ready to intervene if he needed to, Sookie was swallowing rapidly and her cousin, that fascinating girl who looked just like her, simply looked terrified, as she ought to. He guessed he really surprised them when, instead of actually taking up Logan's offer, he laughed. "Where do you find these people, Compton?" he said.

Marie sighed in relief as fangs and claws were retracted. She didn't want to find out who would win if Eric did answer Logan's challenge. Eric led them to his office at the back of the club. His walls had been soundproofed so that human hearing, at least, could not pick up the sound of the music. The vampire settled into his chair and rested his booted feet on his desk. Pam stood beside him, looking suitably bored. "So, mutant," he said. "What's your proposition?"

Logan leaned against the wall. "I was thinkin' that it would be beneficial to both mutants and vampires if we formed an alliance," he said. Marie knew he was fighting to keep calm. She could see that vein throbbing in his temple, and that usually meant he was irritated. When Logan was irritated, he tended to be rather, well, brash.

"Really?" said Eric, raising an eyebrow. "And why would it benefit us?"

"Because we don't sizzle like fryin' bacon in the sunlight, that's why," said Logan.

"First you call me 'bub', and now you're calling me bacon," said Eric. "My, you are either the bravest or the most stupid human I have ever met. Then again, I suppose no one with claws can be called fully human."

"So are you for it or against it?" said Logan, growing more impatient by the minute.

"It is an interesting idea, but I do not know how much we will gain from such an alliance," said Eric. "After all, we already have humans in our pay, and you, no doubt, will have your own conditions, am I correct?"

"Damn right, I do," said Logan. "If we're gonna help you, you're gonna help us."

"Yes," said Eric. "But I do not know how much help you will be. Of course, that is of little concern because I believe we will soon find out. I am in need of a favour at the moment, and if you can prove yourself to be more helpful than regular day-walkers, then I will take your proposition to the Queen. How does that sound?"

"You've got a queen?" said Logan.

"That was not the response I was looking for," said Eric, "but yes, we do."

* * *

Logan raised an eyebrow. Northman wanted him to help him find someone, or rather, a couple of someones, in another state? Logan had to admit he wasn't so bad at finding things —his problem was knowing what to find— but he wasn't familiar with vampires or with the southern states. Most of his contacts were from New York or Washington. Of course, what the vampire sheriff —that made him think of the Sheriff of Rottingham from that Robin Hood spoof movie and he had to try very hard not to snort— actually wanted was for Sookie to help him locate the missing vamps by reading people's minds. Privacy laws, obviously, were not Northman's main concern.

"And what do you need me to do?" asked Logan.

"We suspect that the missing vampires might have been taken by a more militant branch of a vampire hating church known as the Fellowship of the Sun," said Northman. "I trust you have heard of it?"

"No, but I have heard of the _Fellowship of the Ring_," said Logan.

The vampire briefly glanced towards the ceiling, or maybe towards the hypothetical heaven that was hypothetically located in the sky. Logan didn't put much stock in hypotheses, preferring to believe in what he could see and smell and hear and taste. He also believed in what he saw on the Discovery Channel. "The Fellowship of the Sun is a group of fanatics who are...let's say... decidedly unfriendly to those of us who are sentient non-humans, like vampires and...others," said Northman. On top, they seem to be just a church, but we have reason to believe that there is also a militant side, one which is waging a war on our kind."

"Uh huh. So what do you want me to do again?"

"Well, vampires might be adequate protection for Sookie at night, but during the day, she will be vulnerable."

"That is," cut in Sookie, "if I agree to go and you forget that I haven't said yes."

"We have a deal," said Northman sharply.

"Yes, but I never thought you'd need me to go to another city, let alone another state," said Sookie. "You want me to go to Dallas!"

"Yes," said Northman, drawing out the single vowel.

"I'll need to take time off work," said Sookie.

"Yes," said Northman again.

"I need compensation," said Sookie, folding her arms and staring Northman right in the eye. Logan decided, in that moment, that this girl deserved a bit more respect than what he'd been showing her. She had guts.

"Of course," said Northman. He was a businessman. Logan didn't trust businessmen; they were usually too wily for his taste. "I will arrange that with the King of Texas, who is the one who requested Sookie's aid. I suppose you would want compensation too, Mr. Howlett?" At least the vampire had the decency to mention it to him first.

"Damn right I do," said Logan. Hmm...what was the pay rate of hired bodyguards these days? Oh, stuff it. If Northman really wanted him to do this, he could just pay him whatever the hell he asked for. For the next fifteen minutes or so, they bargained, and sometimes the bargaining got a bit heated. Northman had called the King of Texas and put him speaker phone before proceeding to cut a deal with him, and Logan had to admit that the blond vampire drove a pretty steep bargain. Sookie now had an entourage that included Bill and Marie, since Bill wasn't letting Sookie out of his sight and Logan wasn't going to leave Marie all alone in a strange town when her powers had just returned. The vampire king was also going to pay an insane amount. All in all, everyone was content, if not completely satisfied. Logan doubted he could be satisfied when Northman kept on looking at Marie as if she was a new delicacy to be tasted.

* * *

Logan had every right to be worried. Eric was curious about Marie, even if it was only because of the fact that she looked like Sookie's double. How could two people with different genes look so similar? And what was she hiding? For certain, she was hiding something. Bill had said that she and Logan were both mutants, yet no one seemed to know what Marie's power was. Mutants had powers, didn't they? Eric had to admit that he didn't know too much about the mutant community. Up until now, he had never given them much thought, except that their blood tasted different.

But now that he thought about it, it would definitely be useful to have mutants working for him. Take Logan, for example. The man had claws. That was better than any regular human employee. Of course, he would have to make sure that the mutant did not turn against him, as he seemed to have no fear for vampires. Humans could be controlled by fear. His thoughts inevitably turned back to the other mutant in his office. Unlike Sookie, Marie seemed so quiet, although it was not unusual for young human females to be shy in the presence of strangers. She wore gloves with her sundress; an unusual combination that made him suspicious.

"You seem awfully quiet...Marie, is it?" he asked suddenly. If he was going to pay them to go to Dallas and snoop around for him, then they were, effectively, working for him and in his mind, that gave him every right to ask probing questions. It was only fair he knew what sort of people he was paying.

* * *

"I don't have anything to say," said Marie, wishing that he had not acknowledged her. He was dangerous, and she didn't want to play with danger.

"I know what your friend is capable of," said Eric, "but what about you? What can you do?"

"I..." Marie trailed off. Did she really want the vampire to know what she was capable of?

Eric suddenly reached out. Afraid that he might accidentally touch her skin, she jerked away. The vampire's eyes immediately grew colder, if that was possible. "Don't you like vampires, Marie?" he asked.

"It's nothing personal," said the girl. "It's just that when people touch me, they end up seriously hurt." She'd been so afraid of offending the vampire that she'd blurted it out without thinking about it, and now she was beginning to regret it. Eric now seemed even more interested in her.

"Is that right?" he said. "How fascinating." He glanced at Sookie. "A telepath, and now this. I wonder what other surprises your family might be hiding, Sookie Stackhouse."

"And I hope you never find out," said Sookie. "If we're done, we should get going. It's three in the morning."

"Your flight is at seven in the evening," said Eric, getting up to escort them to the door. The bar was closed already, and a vampire bartender was putting away the glasses and the waitresses were wiping down the tables. "Enjoy your trip."

* * *

"Is that what you have to deal with on a regular basis?" Logan asked Bill as they drove home.

"Yes," said the vampire.

"How do you do it? I just wanted to kill that guy all over again." Logan was staring sullenly at the road ahead, thinking of the most creative ways in which he could kill the vampire sheriff. It made him feel just a little bit better. Now that he'd proposed an alliance between mutants and vampires, he wondered if he was going to see more of Eric Northman's type.

"I remind myself that I will most likely lose in a fight with him," said Bill. "Besides, he's my sheriff, and killing one's sheriff has a heavy penalty. I'd be hunted if I tried."

Logan wondered if it would be offensive to light up inside a vampire's car. Then he decided that he deserved a smoke and Bill could kick him out if he didn't like it. The vampire wrinkled his nose but he said nothing about the cigar, to his credit. The Wolverine opened a window and blew out a stream of smoke. He'd just remembered that he'd forgotten to talk to fellow mutants about his idea. What would Furball —better known as Hank McCoy, formerly director of Mutant affairs— say?

* * *

Dallas was hot. The sun was setting just as they landed. Heat was emanating from the concrete pavement at the airport. Marie fanned herself with her gloved hand, wishing that she didn't have to wear a long-sleeved t-shirt. She hadn't thought to bring any in thin material, and there had been no time to go and get one before they'd left. She reminded herself to do some shopping. It was just as well that she'd saved up some money, both from her meagre allowance that the school had given her, and from the pay she'd gotten from her job at Merlotte's. Sookie had absolutely refused to allow her to pay rent.

Everywhere they looked there were workers driving those carts with flashing yellow lights on the roof, pulling trailers full of suitcases and bags. Men were shouting, waving to one another, and tossing luggage onto the luggage belt. Never mind that some of the boxes had those orange stickers saying 'fragile' on them.

They were waiting as the airline employees unload the vampires' travelling coffins. It was eerie, looking at the coffin, reminding her of how unnatural the existence of vampires was. At least mutants still breathed. She noticed someone lurking some distance away. He was dressed like a priest, or maybe a pastor. Having never been religious, she couldn't really tell the two apart. For her, they were one and the same. They preached at pulpits. She paid him no heed until he approached her and Sookie. His face was plain, with too full lips. His shoulders were broad, and his hands were large and rough, as if he was used to hard work. He nodded at her and Sookie. "I am sorry for your loss," he said, indicating the coffins that the airline employees were unloading.

For a moment, Marie was at a loss as to why he would say such a thing, and then she remembered that there had once been a time when coffins were accoutrements of the dead and not a method of travel. Did she want to explain it to this...clergyman?

Before either she or Sookie could react, however, his hand suddenly snaked out and grabbed Sookie by the arm. Everything seemed to happen at once. Some of the airline workers suddenly pounced on them. Sookie, being the first to react, was trying to fight them off. Bill burst out of his coffin just as Logan burst out of the plane, dropping all their luggage. Clothing was strewn over the tarmac as the suitcases burst open. With a roar, the Wolverine lunged for Marie's attackers, although for some reason, the claws remained hidden. However, simply the presence of the two furious and probably homicidal men were enough to make the women's attackers baulk and run, although one of them was not fast enough to escape.

With movements that were too fast to follow, Bill threw the man to the ground. It was the man who had pretended to be a clergyman. "Who sent you?" demanded the vampire as he held the man down by the neck. His voice was low, and his fangs were extended.

"I don't know," he stammered. "Please, I was just hired."

"He's telling the truth," said Sookie.

"How were you hired?" asked Logan.

"It was by phone. Someone contacted me twice; once to offer me the job, and the second time to tell me what to do, where to leave the girl, and how I'm getting paid."

"And the others?" said Bill.

"They said that the girl was being escorted by a vampire, so I figured I'd need help."

"Yeah, an' a fat lot of good they were," said Logan.

"No one told us you were going to be here, or that there were two girls instead of just the one," said the hitman defensively. "And your flight was late. You were supposed to land half an hour ago, before the sunset."

"Ah, stop makin' excuses," said Logan. "I'm not interested in how bad you are at bein' a kidnapper.

"Look," said the man. "I've got nothing against vampires. I'm not for you but I'm not against you either. I'm just a man who's trying to earn a living."

"And why would I care?" asked Bill.

"Because if you don't hurt me, I'll tell you everything I know," said the man. "I look after number one first and foremost."

* * *

Logan stared at the phone in his hand. He was alone in his hotel room; Marie was in the room next to his and a door joined their two rooms. He'd never been in a hotel that had been designed specifically to cater to the needs of the undead before. He supposed that businessmen saw business opportunities anywhere. To them, vampires were just a new class of consumer with different needs. Bill and Sookie were out. They'd taken the man who'd attacked them at the airport and gone to meet the King of Texas and to...do something. Since Logan and Marie were just the bodyguard and the cousin respectively, they had not been considered important enough to be invited.

The Wolverine flipped open his phone and then closed it again. He repeated the action several times. To call or not to call? That was the question. He finally dialled the number for the mansion and hoped that whoever picked up the phone was in a good mood. He knew he was in no position to make deals with anybody. He was a loner in the mutant community. Behind his back, some called him the beast that Xavier had taken in. He had no real political power and no real sway apart from being the father figure in the school, unlike people like Hank McCoy or Mystique. The former was a politician and the latter could pose as a politician.

Mystique answered on the second ring. "I've been waiting for you to call me," she said, cutting straight to the chase. "I've left you a dozen messages. Have you forgotten how to use your voicemail?"

"I'm sorry, but I've just been a bit tied up," said Logan. Mystique was not his favourite person in the world. She had a thing for him, as in she would have liked to get into bed with him, but she also hated him for rejecting her advances and for stabbing her. The loathing was mutual.

"Tied up doing what?" The woman's voice grew sly.

"Nothing too interesting," said Logan irritably. "I've made a deal with the vampires."

"You've _what_?"

The sudden increase in volume made the Wolverine jerk his phone away from his ear. Maybe he should have waited until Hank had been there before he told them of this new development.


	5. The Board is Set

**NB: This version of the Fellowship of the Sun is very different from the one in the books and in the show. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 5: The Board is Set**

"Look, I've told you everything." Sookie couldn't help but feel just a little bit sorry for the hitman who'd been hired to kidnap her. It was rather terrifying, being surrounded and interrogated by vampires who could easily snap his neck if they wanted to. "I was contacted by the same man twice, from two different phones, and I was supposed to take the girl to a drop off point outside Dallas and leave her there," said the man. His name was Todd Jordan, he was a loner, and he liked gambling a bit too much for his own good, Sookie could tell. He wouldn't have taken the job if the money hadn't been so good.

"How did anyone find out that Sookie was coming?" said Bill. His fangs were bared, and he was very very angry. Actually, that was an understatement. The King of Texas, on the other hand, sat totally still in his swivel chair, his pale eyes inscrutable behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He wasn't what Sookie had expected a vampire king to look like, but what would she know about vampire royalty? Before Bill, she'd never encountered vampires before. Now she had the feeling that she was encountering far too many strange things all at the same time.

"I don't know," said Todd. "I only carry out the orders."

"Where were you supposed to drop me off?" asked Sookie. The man repeated the instructions that he had been given. Todd was supposed to have injected her with tranquilizer and then left her at a remote spot outside of Dallas just after dawn —three minutes past five— to eliminate any chances of the vampires getting to her first. The money would have then be left at the same spot that evening, buried at the side of the road. Seeing that Todd had told them everything that he knew, the vampires took him out of the room. Sookie knew that they were probably going to release him —that was part of her contract; no human involved would be harmed— but not just yet, in case he ran back to his employer and told him everything.

Then Bill and Stan searched the room, carefully searching for miniscule microphones that could be transmitting signals straight to whoever it was that planned this. Sookie helped; after all, one could hardly let a king crawl on his hands and knees to search for a bug. It was Bill who found it, buried beneath the carpet in a dark corner of the room behind a post-modern sculpture made of plaster. It was barely the size of his thumbnail.

"Whoever planned this knew what they were doing," said he said.

"It's as I feared," said the king of Texas as he dusted off his trousers and sat back down. He'd introduced himself as Stan Davis. King Stan. It was an odd name for a king. "The only organization we know of capable of doing this is the Fellowship of the Sun. They've grown strong over the years. If I had to find a comparison, I'd say they have the same level of organization as Al Qaeda and all its branches."

"Al Qaeda?" said Sookie. She hadn't meant to speak out loud, but she couldn't help it. It was...too strange to think of a group in the good old United States being compared to the notorious terrorists of the Middle East.

"Yes," said Stan, looking completely serious. "They've not yet spread as far as Al Qaeda has, of course, but like their Middle Eastern counterparts, I suspect the Fellowship has their own soldiers and training grounds, hidden from the rest of the world, of course. The only thing the world gets to see is their leader, Steve Newlin, who seems to be on the television every day now."

"How can one man oversee everything?" asked Bill.

"He doesn't," said the other vampire. "Steve Newlin resides in Washington, although he often travels nowadays because of his campaign to get himself voted into the Senate, but his lieutenants take care of day to day business. The Texas branch of the Fellowship is run by a man called Gabe Lowell, a veteran of the First Gulf War."

"That would explain the professionalism of the kidnappings," said Bill.

"It might, although I doubt that the army provides a man with enough skills to kidnap a two thousand year old vampire."

"Then how did he get kidnapped?" asked Sookie.

"That is what you are here to find out," said Stan. "Along with finding all the other missing vampires, of course, if they are still alive."

Sookie suddenly realized how serious a job this was. It wasn't like last time, when she had read the minds of Eric's human employees to find out who'd embezzled money from him. This time, she was pretty much getting herself involved in the vampire version of the War on Terror. That in itself was very terrifying. How was she going to do it? She was just a barmaid from sleepy Bon Temps who happened to be a telepath. Oh, none of this would be happening to her if she hadn't started dating a vampire, not that she regretted meeting Bill, of course, but sometimes, she did wish that life would be a little more normal.

Back to the question at hand. How was she supposed to locate those vampires if the Fellowship was so good at what they did? The obvious way was to infiltrate the Fellowship by pretending to join them. It might still not be successful, since there were so many layers to the Fellowship. New members were unlikely to be told about the more militant side of the organization. And she could hardly go in alone; single women were regarded with much more suspicion than married, or even simply engaged, women. It wasn't fair, but that was the way things worked. She told the vampires her idea. Bill was instantly against it because it put her life in far too much danger. King Stan, on the other hand, seemed to approve. "The human is right," he said. "That is the easiest way."

"I can't let her go in alone!" said Bill. "It's too dangerous! I can't go in there with her and God knows what could happen!"

"But she won't going in alone," pointed out the king. "She'll be with her pretend spouse. She need not do anything except gather information, and since she can read human thoughts, that should not be too difficult."

"Who is going to be her pretend spouse?" asked Bill.

"Bill, I can speak for myself," said Sookie. "If you haven't chosen already, Your Majesty, I have a...human body guard who can go in with me." She thought it was best not to mention that Logan was actually a mutant. Eric certainly hadn't told the king, and she was pretty certain he had his reasons.

"Does this bodyguard of yours look like a potential convert?" asked Stan.

Sookie thought about Logan's hair, which somehow rose in two peaks on either side of his head, making it look as if he had either horns or ears on the top of his head, his innate ability to insult everyone, his smoking habit and his battered leather jacket. Hmm...maybe he wasn't the ideal candidate to be a new recruit for the Fellowship, even if he did not show his claws.

"Well..." she began. "He does stand out in a crowd." That was putting it mildly.

"No," said Stan. "We need someone inconspicuous. Someone whose face will be easily forgotten. You are noticeable enough already, Miss Stackhouse." Sookie didn't know whether to be flattered or afraid.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" ordered the king. The door opened just a crack and one of the king's aides peeked in. Sookie recognized her. The female vampire had dyed her hair so that it was composed of alternating stripes of black and white, much like a zebra crossing.

"Sir, we have a visitor from California," she said.

"Let him in," said Stan. "Our business is concluded."

"Yes sir," said the female vampire. She opened the door further. It was all Sookie could do to stop herself from gasping.

* * *

Logan thought it was morning when he heard the door slam. He glanced at his watch, only to discover that it was just after midnight. Moments later, voices could be heard. Agitated voices. Was that...Northman? What the hell was he doing here? Wasn't the Sheriff of Area Five supposed to stay in Area Five? He placed his ear against the wall. He couldn't help it if he was curious.

Sookie was asking the same question Logan was thinking, although she was a lot more polite than he could ever be. "I had to come and make sure that everything was going as planned," Northman was saying. "And...I have a personal interest in the situation."

"What personal interest?" asked Bill.

"That is none of your business, Compton," said Northman. "And I would appreciate it if you would forget I ever said anything about it. No one knows that I am here, save for Pam, and now you. I intend to keep it that way."

"Is that why you introduced yourself as being Leif from California?" said Sookie. "You know what? Don't answer that."

"I always knew you were smart, Sookie," said Northman.

* * *

Marie was not happy when Sookie told her that she was going to infiltrate a fundamentalist religious organization that paralleled Al Qaeda. "I won't be staying the night," Sookie assured her. "I'll just have to go back every day until I find out what happened to those vampires, that's all. And I'm not going in alone. The King's sending someone in with me to pretend to be my husband." They were eating lunch in the hotel's restaurant. There were only humans there at the moment, since the vampires were all asleep. Sookie took a bite of her salmon.

"And what about the man who was sent to be your bodyguard?" said Marie. "I'd feel better if Logan was going in with you." She turned her half-full glass of lemon Perrier around, contemplating the droplets of water that had condensed on the glass' cold surface.

"I need to be able to convince them that I mean to join the church, Marie," said Sookie. "I know Logan's your best friend, and I like him, but I just can't see him acting the part."

"I suppose..." said Marie doubtfully. "Does the king know how dangerous it is for you?"

"Probably," said Sookie, "and he also probably doesn't care as long as I don't die and Eric doesn't come after him."

"Comforting," said Marie. "I suppose I've got no other choice, since you've got a royal edict, and I know better than to go against royal edicts."

"I have my phone. If anything happens, I'll text you," Sookie promised. At that moment, her phone buzzed. "And I believe my escort is here," she said once she'd read her new message. "He's waiting for me outside."

* * *

The human Stan had sent was a lawyer called Hugo Ayres and he was, for a lack of a better word, the lover of Stan's aide, Isabel Beaumont. He seemed pleasant enough, and he shook her hand firmly. "Isabel tells me that we're supposed to pretend to be married," he said as he escorted her to the car, a 1980s blue Ford. "What's our story?"

"I was wondering about that," said Sookie as she waved goodbye to Marie. She couldn't see her cousin through the one-way glass, but she had a feeling that the younger girl was watching her and waving back. "I was thinkin' maybe we could have had a whirlwind romance and got married without our parents' permission, so that would account for us not knowing each other very well. Then we moved to Dallas to start our new life together and heard about the Fellowship of the Sun."

"That suits me," said Hugo.

* * *

Marie, of course, had to tell Logan everything. The Wolverine was a bit annoyed that Sookie had underestimated his acting skills. "If I remember correctly, I was in a special force in the army and we had to do all sorts of complicated missions that included spyin' and whatnot," said Logan.

"But Logan, how do you know you remember correctly?" said Marie gently. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how old Logan was.

"Well, I assume I do," said Logan. "Those images are all I've got. Hey, if your cousin's a telepath, maybe you could get her to read my mind and help me get those memories back."

"Remember what the Professor said? The mind is not—"

"The mind is not a box to be opened and closed. Yeah, yeah, I remember, an' I s'pose he's right but it doesn't make not knowin' any less annoyin'," said Logan. He reached for a cigar and lit up. "Did you know that Northman's here?"

"You mean Eric Northman?" Marie was surprised.

"How many Northmans do we know? He doesn't know I know he's here, by the way, so if you do bump into him, pretend to be surprised, in case he thinks we're a threat."

"Are you getting devious, Logan?"

"No! I just know that men like him like to think that they're in total an' complete control, like Stryker."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"So you can avoid him. I don't like the way he looks at you."

"I don't like it either, but if we're going to be allies, Logan, you've got to be nice, at least when you see him."

"Hey, I tried last time."

"_That_ was nice? You called him bacon!"

"I could have called him something a whole lot worse, kid."

* * *

From the outside, the Fellowship of the Sun Centre looked just like any other religious organization. There was a large building at the front with a cross on the roof, so Sookie knew that this was the church. Behind it were several smaller but more brightly painted buildings; these were classrooms. There were always people coming in and going out of the buildings. Apparently, something was going on because she could feel the excitement.

Hugo parked between a white truck and a green van. The parking lot was no more than a patch of gravel and all the cars were dusty. There were some children on the swings in the playground and a few of the mothers were sitting on a bench, watching them and talking. All in all, it seemed very normal.

As soon as Sookie and Hugo neared the steps of the church, a woman who seemed to be in her thirties approached them. Her name-tag said 'Janine Lowell'. Sookie wondered if she was any relation of Gabe Lowell, the man who ran the Dallas branch of the Fellowship. "Hi," she said. "I don't think I've seen you around before," she said. Her voice was cheerful. Perhaps too cheerful.

They'd agreed that they'd let Hugo do the talking because in most conservative marriages, the husband was usually the one on top. Hugo had insisted that it would be suspicious if Sookie spoke too much. "We've never been here before," said the lawyer. "I'm Hugo Ayres and this here is my wife, Marie."

Janine shook hands with Hugo, although not with Sookie. "It's very nice to meet you," said Janine. "I'm Janine Lowell—" She laughed at herself then. "Well, you can obviously tell, since I'm wearing my name-tag. Silly me. I'm Gabe Lowell's sister. He's the pastor at this church here in Dallas. So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, we just moved here," said Sookie. To hell with the agreement. Hugo had just given her her cousin's name! "We're looking for a church, actually. Last week, we attended a Methodist service, and the pastor was complainin' about the new laws for mutant registration and restriction of vampire rights." She hoped she sounded convincingly disapproving.

"What a lot of bull," said Janine in genuine disgust. And then she caught herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse my language. I just get a bit agitated when people treat monsters as equals. Well, you've come to the right place, Hugo and Marie. In this church, we see vampires and mutants as blights on God's green earth. Why don't you follow me and we'll get you registered?"

They readily agreed. It was the perfect opportunity to meet a few more members of this 'church' and scope out their heads to see if they knew anything about the missing vampires. Most people were thinking about mundane things, like their children's grades, whether the casserole was going to turn out well, and how much the replacement tire for the green van was going to cost. Sookie tried reading Janine's mind, but the woman also seemed exceedingly normal for someone who was the sister of a lieutenant in a suspected terrorist organization. She was thinking about how much food they were going to need for that night's lock-in and how she could convince the two new arrivals to stay. She directly invited them as they filled in the forms.

"Well, that does sound fun," said Sookie, pretending to be excited. "But we've got lots of errands we need to run. The cat just got neutered and we have to pick him up from the vet."

"Yeah," said Hugo. He was surprised that she could even think of such an excuse, she could tell, and she almost grinned.

"Oh, very well, then, but you must stay for the dinner, at least," said Janine. "We're having a barbecue and there's plenty of food." _Oh yes, we're gonna have a real good barbecue. _Sookie almost jerked in surprise when she 'heard' that. Janine didn't sound as if she was thinking about a regular barbecue. Could it be...

"Well, I'd love to, but I've already got a casserole in the oven," she said.

"Too bad," said another voice. She had been thinking so hard about the 'barbecue' that she hadn't noticed the man entering the room until it was too late.

* * *

Marie checked her phone again. Nothing. The sun was setting and Sookie still wasn't back. After lunch, she'd taken a cab to the local mall to try and find some gloves and lighter long-sleeved tops. She'd been more successful with the tops. Shopping had made her stop worrying so much about her cousin for a while, but she only had so much money and so many things she needed to buy. Now she couldn't stop worrying.

To take up time, and to stop herself from thinking too much, she went to the internet cafe in the hotel lobby and logged onto Google maps to look for the Fellowship of the Sun Centre. It was on the outskirts of the city, in the north. It would take a while to drive back, she supposed.

"That's only their public headquarters," said a voice behind her, making her jump. Eric stood looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. "No one except members know where their real headquarters are, although we suspect that it's somewhere near their public HQ."

"Eri—" began Marie, but he held a finger up to his lips.

"I'm Leif Erikson from California," he said with a devilish smile. If she hadn't been so busy wondering about exit routes in case he meant her harm, she would have noticed how handsome he looked in a grey suit with his blue shirt. The top two buttons were undone, offering a view of his golden chest hair.

"All right," she said, nodding. Now what was she supposed to do? Here she was, in an internet cafe with a vampire who made her palms sweat profusely. Wait, could he smell her sweat? Logan could smell others' fear. He'd told her that it had something to do with the secretions in their sweat.

"Are you afraid of me, Marie?" asked Eric.

"Yes," she said. There was no point in lying. He probably knew, anyway, given her reaction. "And you probably know why."

"I probably do," conceded Eric. He was so very tall. Suddenly, she wished she wasn't sitting down. It meant that she had to almost tilt her head all the way backwards to look him in the eye. He seemed to know what she was thinking —was she really that easy to read? She really had to practise her impromptu acting skills a bit more— because he beckoned to her, indicating that she should follow him into the lobby. She didn't want to follow him, but it felt as if she had no choice. She herself had said that they needed to be polite to this man, and since he had shown no indication of wanting to harm her, yet, she felt obliged to do as he asked.

"You seem distrustful of me, Marie," said Eric once she'd sat down on the leather couch opposite him, across from a glass coffee table with a ceramic ashtray on it.

"You're dangerous," she said.

"That I am," he agreed. "But we are, all of us, dangerous in some ways. You, for example, can kill if you touch someone for too long."

"Yes, but I have no inclination to kill."

"What makes you think that I do?"

"Can you honestly say that you don't have the inclination to kill?"

"I suppose I cannot," said Eric, inclining his head. "But you need not be so afraid of me. I might be dangerous, but I see no need to harm you. Yet."

He might have said more, but a blur suddenly passed by them and headed for the door. Before Marie could ask any questions, he was out of his seat and he, too, became a blur. Now, Rogue might not have known what was going on, but she knew how to guess. She only knew Eric because of Bill, and she only knew Bill because of Sookie. Sookie was, technically, working for Eric, and Sookie had promised to come back from her risky mission by evening, only she hadn't. Therefore, judging from Eric's reaction, something must have happened to Sookie. Yes, it was a very iffy connection, but she would rather be wrong and have done something about it than be wrong and not have done something about it.

She ran to find Logan.


	6. Scent Trail

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize; everything belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 6: Scent Trail**

The traffic was awful. In fifteen minutes, they'd moved about three hundred feet. Marie wished that Logan had his motorcycle with him. It would have been dangerous to weave in and out of this traffic, but Logan was a great motorcyclist, and he usually had one helmet, although he never wore it. His skull was a better helmet than anything else. However, Logan had left his motorcycle in Louisiana at Sookie's place. With no other mode of transport, they'd had to catch a cab.

Her imagination was going into overdrive. Who knew what those fundamentalists would do to her cousin for consorting with vampires? They could be uploading videos of her execution onto YouTube by now—no, she would not think about that. They were probably far too media savvy to do something that ridiculous anyway. Those YouTube videos had not done much for Al Qaeda's reputation. If they were going to execute Sookie, they'd do it in private. No, she was not going to think about _that_ either.

"Don't think, kid," whispered Logan.

"I can't help it, Logan," Marie whispered back. "She could be dead!"

"Northman's gone to get her, and I bet you that other blur was Bill," said the man. "I'm pretty sure they can hold off the crazies until we arrive."

"You sure?"

"Sure. Bill and Northman versus the crazies are like special ops guys versus the terrorists. If you like movies, then you'd know that the special ops guys always win."

"Thanks, Logan. I feel _so_ much better now."

The traffic cleared once they were out of the main part of the city, and they reached the Fellowship of the Sun Centre two hours after they'd left the hotel. Everything was quiet outside. It wasn't very dark because of the floodlights from the church building. Something was definitely happening inside there because people kept on going in, carrying covered plates and sleeping bags. Logan paid the cab driver and asked him to wait for a while some distance away from the church as Marie went in to look around the parking lot. She spotted the car Sookie had gotten in this afternoon, the blue Ford.

"She's definitely been here," she murmured, knowing that Logan would hear her.

"Do you know if she's still here?" Logan whispered back. He was already inspecting the car for signs of foul play.

"I don't know. I'm not a telepath," said Marie.

"Sorry. Stupid question," said Logan. He sniffed. "Well, I smell vampire."

"Vampires smell different from normal people?" asked Marie.

"Sure. They're dead, aren't they? It's not a very strong scent, so I'm guessing there aren't many vampires here." He sniffed harder. "Do you think...?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Marie. "How long has it been since you've been to church?"

"Me? I don't ever remember bein' in one for the right purpose," said Logan.

* * *

He'd hastily combed back his hair with his fingers to get rid of the peaks. It was the way his hair naturally grew, for some unscientific reason. His shirt had been tucked in and he'd taken off his leather jacket. Somehow, he looked less frightening without it on. It was too bad that Marie couldn't do the talking; she'd gotten really good grades in drama class. However, she looked far too much like Sookie. If the people from the church had really taken her, then having Marie appear would cause a whole lot of commotion that they didn't need. Therefore, Logan had made Marie stay behind the car Sookie had come in, whilst he went in to snoop.

He approached the woman who was standing at the church doors with a clipboard. It was her job to greet everyone who came in, it seemed. "'Scuse me," he said to her. "Do you think you could tell me the way to the nearest gas station?" The smell of vampire was definitely present, although not strong, and it was coming from inside the church. Did this building have a basement?

"Sure," said the woman, and she gave him a whole bunch of instructions to which he paid no heed. He was far too busy trying to see if the vampire he smelled was either Bill or Northman. If it was one of them, then this was the right place. If not, then they'd probably have to continue searching, and there was a lot of ground to cover. Just as well there was a car at his disposal now. It was highly unlikely that the cab driver would agree to take them all around Dallas for the entire night.

No, it wasn't either Bill or Northman, but the scent was strangely similar to the latter's. This warranted further investigation, in Logan's opinion. He thanked the woman for the instructions and went back to where Marie was hiding.

"Did you find anything?" she whispered.

"There's a vampire in there somewhere, but it's not one I know," said Logan. "If it's hidden anywhere, then it'll probably be in a room where the kid aren't likely to be able to get into, so I'm thinking maybe a basement or a storage room in the church. If it were me, I'd keep a vampire in a basement with a high security vault, but since the smell is strong enough for me to know that it's not a vampire I know, I'm thinkin' that there isn't a vault."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna get in that church somehow. Maybe that vampire can tell us something."

They stayed close to the ground, taking care to avoid the light. It meant that they had to walk in a huge circle around the church until they reached the back, where there was a little door. It was locked, but that was no obstacle for them. Logan cut open the lock with a claw and eased open the door. Luckily, the noise from the sleepover attendees in the sanctuary was enough to drown out any noise that the two intruders were making. Logan sniffed the air again, and he motioned for Marie to follow him, not that she needed him to tell her that. The door led into a narrow corridor. The sides were cluttered with chairs and other junk.

The Wolverine slowly extended his claws. At the end of the corridor was another door, and that opened to a narrow flight of stairs that led downwards into the darkness. "Bingo," whispered Logan. "Stay behind me, kid, an' if I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

"I'm not leaving you behind, Logan," said Marie.

Logan gave her one of his glares; the type he usually reserved for misbehaving students. "Just listen to me, kid," he said. "You'll be doin' us both a favour." There was no arguing with him when he was in that mood. The only thing she could do was nod and agree. He might want to find Sookie, but his main concern was keeping _her_ safe. It had always been his main concern ever since he'd taken her under his wing.

Marie felt for a light switch, but she couldn't find one. Damn. She would have to resort to desperate measures. She pulled out her cell phone. The screen gave just enough light for them to see by. Well, perhaps not nearly enough, but it was better than nothing. They carefully picked their way down the steps, taking care not to stumble and make noises. At the bottom, Logan finally found a light switch. As he turned on the light, they found themselves face to face with a teenaged boy. A teenaged boy with fangs.

* * *

Logan kept his eyes on the vampire. He wasn't restrained in any way, and yet, he was in the basement of a vampire-hating church. There was something decidedly dodgy about that. "Who are you?" he asked the vampire.

"Is that any of your concern?" asked the boy. His English was accented, but clear. Logan didn't recognize the accent. Then again, he wasn't very good at recognizing accents.

"Yeah, because a bunch of vampires have gone missing, and now my friend's cousin's missing because she was sent to look for them," said Logan, jerking his head at Marie's direction. "You know anything about that?"

"Your friend's cousin is human, yes?" said the vampire. "Why would she be searching for missing vampires?"

"Well, you gotta ask Northman about that," said Logan. "He's the one who sent her."

"Northman? As in Eric Northman?"

"You know 'im?"

"Of course." The boy shook his head. "He's my child."

"Aren't you a bit young to be someone's dad?" said Logan.

"I don't mean that kind of child," said the vampire in all seriousness. "Surely you of all people would know what I mean, Archangel. You've been hunting me for centuries."

* * *

Marie's jaw dropped. Archangel? Logan was an _archangel_? She looked from the vampire to her friend. Logan himself seemed just as confused. "Whaddya mean?" he demanded. "I ain't an angel, and I've never met a vampire until a week ago, so I've definitely not been huntin' you for centuries."

The vampire scrutinized the Wolverine with an unreadable gaze. His eyes were pale. Actually, all of him was pale, apart from his blue tattoos and his dark hair. Finally, he turned his eyes away from Logan. "Perhaps I am mistaken," he said. "I apologize for the confusion, but you do look a lot like Gabriel, and you even smell like him. I did not know that he had family."

"Right. I've got a relative called Gabriel?" said Logan. "Whatever. Listen, bub, we're gettin' you out of here, and then we're gonna have to find the other vampires, and you're gonna tell us everythin' you know to help us find them." He reached out to grab the vampire's hand, but the boy jerked back.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I have to be here for the dawn ceremony."

"Don't you fry in the sun?" asked Logan.

"That is the entire point," said the boy. "I am here to atone for two thousand years of sin. I chose to come. I am not going with you. At dawn, I will greet the sun for the first time in two millennia, and I shall be glad."

"But you have to help us!" said Marie, finally finding her voice. "My cousin is out there, and these fanatics are going to hurt her. What about the other vampires? What about your...your child? Please." She prayed that he was not too far gone to remember that there were other things that were just as important as his own salvation.

"You should not be associating with vampires, you know," said the boy. "It is wrong. The living should not mingle with the dead."

"Yes, yes," said Marie. She was getting impatient. "But let's put that aside for a second. There are people out there; people whose lives are in danger, and one of them happens to be a living human being. I don't know what you did in your life to make you feel so guilty, but if you want to atone for your sins, then at least help me save a life. Eric has gone to find my cousin, and for all we know, he could be in serious danger." She didn't really think that Eric would be in much danger, but throwing in his name seemed to be the best way to get his...uh..._parent_ to react.

"Do you really want to know what I've done?" said the vampire. He was mired so deeply in his own guilt that he seemed to be having trouble understanding what they were saying. Unfortunately, they didn't really have the time to play shrink to a depressed two thousand year old vampire.

"Maybe you've slaughtered millions, but right now, I'm more interested in stopping a few others from being slaughtered," said Marie. "So please, if you know anything—"

"Perhaps it's for the better," said the vampire. "I don't know about other vampires getting captured, but maybe they should die too, just so that they won't kill anymore."

"Who are you to judge?" said the girl, on the verge of tears. One could only take so much, and she really wasn't in the mood. "Are you God? Only God has the right to pass judgement."

"No, I am not God," said the vampire, "but I do hope to see God."

"Do you know what will work in your favour, then?" said Marie. "Help me save my cousin. It will count for something in the afterlife. At least it will be one less death you'll be responsible for." She didn't know for certain that there was an afterlife, but this vampire seemed to believe that there was. The vampire seemed to be thinking about it. Finally, he sighed.

"You are fools," he said, "and one of the nephilim should really know better." That last part, he directed at Logan. Marie had a niggling suspicion that Logan had no idea what the word 'nephilim' meant, but there was no time to explain. "I can sense Eric's presence about fifteen miles north-west of here. That is all I can tell you."

"It's a start, bub," said Logan. "And trust me, if you end up saving lives tonight, it'll count in your favour, if there is really such a thing as God." They left the vampire with a child's face and ancient eyes behind and ran up the steps again, this time not bothering to keep quiet or out of the lights. Their mad dash startled some of the late-comers, but no one was in any shape to give chase. Slippers did not make great running shoes. Marie struggled to keep up with Logan. He was so damn fast! Well, perhaps not as fast as a vampire, but still.

The doors of the blue Ford were locked. Logan's claws made short work of the locking mechanism. He plunged a claw into the ignition and the engine roared to life. Marie quickly put on her seatbelt. From her experience, Logan had no respect for road rules and definitely not for speed limits. This was going to be one bumpy ride.

* * *

The entire left side of her face throbbed, and her left eye had swollen shut. Being with vampires was certainly adverse to one's health, but only because one tended to be targeted by people like the Fellowship of the Sun. Slowly, she climbed to her feet. Where was she? The pale cold light from the fluorescent tubes on the ceiling hurt her eyes. For a moment, she almost fell and she reached out for something to support her. Her fingers met cold metal bars, narrowly spaced. Was that...

Sookie fought to focus her vision. Yes, it looked like silver, or at least silver coated steel, although she could be mistaken. Somehow, she'd ended up in what looked like a prison cell. There was a small stool in the corner, and a cup of water, but no bed. However, that was more than what the other prisoners had. Her neighbour to the left was a vampire. She was a vampire in very bad shape. Her clothing was torn and tattered, and she had been chained to the wall with silver for God knew how long. Her piteous moans made the young woman nauseous. She looked away, unable to bear the suffering. On her left was another vampire. This one was in slightly better shape, and his face was very familiar...

"Bill!" she gasped.

"Sookie?" His voice was raspy, as if someone had tried to strangle him and failed. His fangs were extended, and his usually pale face was so pale now that his skin seemed almost translucent. There were large tears in his shirt, and they were edged with fresh blood. She could still see the scars from the freshly healed wounds, pink and angry. He'd been blindfolded, although she did not see why they would need to blindfold him. He was already helpless because the silver chains and manacles weakened him. Perhaps they'd done it out of spite. "I knew you were here. I could smell you, but I didn't know you were so close..." He trailed off.

"How did they get you?" she asked. She wished she could touch him, but the bars separated them. He was so close, and yet so far away.

"They were prepared," said Bill. "They ambushed us, Eric and I. We fought, and we killed many of them, but their weapons were too good, and they wore too much silver. They even had silver chainmail. They overpowered us and captured us with silver nets."

"Eric came with you?" said Sookie. Great. Now who was going to come to their rescue?

"Yes," said Bill. "He followed me. I don't know where he is now." He lifted his head a little. "I smell your blood. What have they done to you, Sookie?"

"Someone hit me, and I can't see out of my left eye, but I'm not badly hurt," she said. That much was true. She also desperately needed a bathroom or at least something that she could use, but apart from that one cup full of water, there was nothing else in the cell apart from the concrete floor. Oh, and the silver chains dangling from the concrete wall at the back. All she could see were more cells with more vampires. Most of them had been beaten and starved, and...was that a man draining a vampire?

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Let me out!"

The drainer looked up. "You wish, you fang-banging bitch," he said. Sookie swallowed a torrent of bad words that she could have said. She was brought up to be a lady, and just because she was locked in a cell with bars didn't mean that she should stop being a lady.

"You let me out right now, or you'll regret it," she threatened. "I've got friends who are looking for me, and when they find me, you'll be sorry."

"I doubt that, whore," said the drainer as he put the lid on his vial. "We're prepared for the fangers. Look at your neighbour. His friend doesn't look much better."

Sookie suddenly felt cold. If they could deal with Eric, then was there any vampire who they couldn't deal with? Sank to her knees and rested her forehead against the bars of the cell.

The drainer was thinking about how much the blood would sell. They needed the money for more weapons and silver. Overseas buyers paid a lot for the V. It was unfortunate that the Sicilian Mafia were so good at intervening and dealing with V dealers.

* * *

The vampire boy in the church's basement had given them the right directions. Logan slowed down the car when they saw lights. There weren't very many lights, but there were enough to tell them that this was no ordinary dwelling. The light reflected off the metal of the fence. There were a lot of guards on patrol; at least a hundred. They were going to have some trouble getting past that.

Logan switched off the car. "Maybe you should stay, kid," he said.

"No way," said Marie. "My cousin is probably in there. I am not going to sit in the car and twiddle my thumbs whilst you go and do all the work."

"All right, fine, but you gotta promise to do whatever I tell you," said Logan. "If I say run, you run. If I say duck, you duck. Got it?"

"Got it, sarge," said Marie. It suddenly dawned on her that she was going on a mission before she was a proper member of the 'X-Men' team. It was a bit exciting, and more than just a bit terrifying. All of a sudden, she wished that the others were here. Mystique was good at this sort of thing, and Bobby would be of great help. So would Kitty, and Jubilee...actually, they were all probably better than her at this. After all, they'd fought on Alcatraz. She hadn't.

'There's nothing for it,' she told herself. 'You're the one who's here, and it's your cousin in that compound.'

The two of them crawled on their stomachs in order to not be seen. Logan was an expert at this. Marie, on the other hand, was not. The fence seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Of course, Logan was not looking for a hole. He could easily make a hole in the fence if he wanted to. What he was looking for was a gap between the guards large enough for him to make said hole without being noticed. The plants tore at her clothes and hair. Like all desert plants, these were tough. No soft ferns or mosses or leafy bushes out here. For a moment, she regretted wearing one of her new long-sleeved shirts. It was going to get completely ruined after this, but then she felt ashamed. What was the state of one t-shirt compared to the lives of so many people? Sookie had taken her in when she needed somewhere to stay, and she hadn't baulked when she'd found out about Marie's 'gift'. She owed her cousin a lot for that.

She concentrated on inching forward, all the while hoping that there weren't any snakes. She wasn't sure if she could control herself if she did come across a snake. They seemed to have crawled for miles and miles, but finally, Logan stopped, and Marie almost bumped into him. "Right, kid," he whispered. "This is it. Once we're inside, I'm gonna get us some costumes. You up for that?"

"Sure," she whispered back, although she wasn't really all that sure. However, it wasn't as if she had a choice.

"You got any specific size in mind?" She could almost hear the grin in Logan's voice. Trust him to joke at a time like this. She supposed that was part of his charm. He always managed to make her smile.

"Eight," she said. "But I could go up a size if I need to." Maybe it was the adrenaline surging through her veins, or maybe it was Logan's influence, but she found herself smiling too. There was no point in being depressed.

"Right. I'll try my best to find the right size for you, but no guarantees, all right?" He cut a hole in the wire fence with his claws. Luckily, there were no sensors to alert the guards. That was a serious design flaw, and Marie wondered briefly that if the terrorists had realized that there was —literally— a huge hole in their defence plans. Then she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, to use an old-fashioned phrase. Logan crawled through first. The base looked a lot like a meat-packing factory, although what was inside those buildings was anyone's guess. Marie had no idea where to begin looking. The compound was huge, with so many buildings scattered everywhere.

"Wait here," whispered Logan. Apparently, he'd either heard or smelled something. He crept away, looking very much like a predator stalking something. The claws were hidden for the moment. It was too dark for her to see much, but she did see the silhouettes of two men nearby. Moments later, the sounds of a quick scuffle could be heard, although they were quickly silenced.

"Hope these fit, kid," said Logan as he dragged two prone bodies back to where Marie was crouching.

"You didn't kill them, did you?" whispered the girl.

"Nah. Knocked 'em out pretty good though." He quickly stripped the two men of their armour and equipment. They looked just like professional soldiers, with helmets and Kevlar and even machine guns. What made them different from the usual soldier were the silver chainmail shirts that they wore beneath the Kevlar. Logan bound the soldiers with the silver chains that he'd found in their equipment and then gagged them before dragging them through the hole that he'd made in the fence, hiding them some distance away so that even if they did wake up, it would be a while before they could alert the others.

The armour was heavy, and the soldiers had so much gear. The machine gun felt strange in her hands; she'd handled a gun before, of course, but only revolvers and pistols. Logan had insisted on teaching a course about firearms. Luckily for her, each soldier was equipped with two revolvers.

"Silver again," said Logan as he opened the barrel of one of the guns to inspect the bullets. "Man, where do these guys get the money to buy all this silver and weaponry? Some of this stuff looks like government issue." He tucked the gun back into its holster. There were also Kevlar gloves, although it turned out that even Kevlar was no match for adamantium as Logan's claws erupted from them. He retracted the claws again.

"Did it ever occur to you that the government, or at least some part of the government, is behind this?" asked Marie.

"It crossed my mind," said Logan. "And it wouldn't surprise me if it were true. People like us aren't good for the government, and the vampires, even less so. At least mutants don't have their own legal system yet."


	7. I am Wolverine Hear Me Roar

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognize.

**Chapter 7: I am Wolverine. Hear Me Roar. **

Sookie cast out her thoughts as far as they could go. There were a lot of vampires. They appeared as empty gaps in her mind. She forced herself to go further, to go beyond the confines of these concrete walls. There were men thinking about the vampire that they were going to ritually kill tonight. They thought he was the biggest vampire they'd ever seen. She glimpsed an image of a vampire chained to a stone altar with silver; smoke was rising from where the metal touched his pale flesh. Eric. Damn! How _did _they manage that? And then her mind brushed another familiar mind.

'Logan?' she thought. Marie had said that he was good at knowing when people were messing with his head. She hoped that he could sense her now.

'Kid?' came the reply. 'Is that you?'

'Yes, it's me,' she thought back, hoping that she was strong enough to transmit whole sentences.

Apparently, she wasn't, because she sensed that he only felt her presence. He couldn't 'hear' her per se.

She 'heard' a string of unwholesome words run through the mutant's mind. Logan could write a dictionary of swear words.

* * *

"Well, Sookie's alive," Logan murmured. "I felt her poking around inside my head." Too bad she couldn't simply transmit thoughts. It would be helpful to know what exactly he was looking for.

"She is?" said Marie. She sounded decidedly more cheerful now that she could confirm that she wasn't too late to save her cousin. "Do you know where they're keeping her?"

"I'm tryin' to find out, kid," said Logan. He sniffed the air. The scent of burned vampire was heavy. There were many different vampires, so it was hard to determine whether the vampires he was searching for were amongst them, but he guessed that they would be, if they had been captured, and he was pretty sure they'd been captured. Otherwise, there would be a heck of a lot more action going on. With nothing else to go on, he followed the scent. He was bound to find something somehow.

* * *

Sookie could hear someone opening the trapdoor. Someone was coming down, two of the Soldiers of the Sun or whatever the hell they called themselves. "Well, whore," said the older of the two. "It's time for judgement and retribution."

"You let her go!" Bill growled from the other cell, although his voice was too weak for the command to sound effective. The men laughed at him.

"Or you'll what, fanger?" sneered the one who had spoken. He opened the door to Sookie's cell. The woman pressed herself back against the concrete wall, groping for something to defend herself with. Her fingers touched one of the silver chains dangling from the wall. As the man neared, she swung the chain at him, striking him on the side of his helmet. "You bitch!" he roared as he staggered away.

Sookie readied the chain again, but this time he was too quick for her. As she swung it, he lifted his arm, and the chain curled around his armoured sleeve. She felt his fist connect with the side of her face. There was a sickening crack. Her head snapped back from the force of the blow and hit the concrete wall. Her ears rang, and she could feel blood soaking her hair. 'Logan,' she thought, wishing that she could communicate directly with him. 'Logan, where are you?' She was vaguely aware of Bill shouting her name and struggling against the chains that bound him, no matter how much they hurt him. A rough hand grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She was half dragged and half carried up the steps, through the trapdoor, and into the warm night air. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she caught snippets of their thoughts. They were going to take her to Eric, and they were going to burn the two of them together, tied to a wooden cross. She tried to protest. If she was going to die, she didn't want to die with Eric! Just because they were both blond did not mean that they were compatible with one another!

* * *

Logan sniffed the air again. Fresh blood. Human blood. Sookie. He broke into a run, and Marie, to her credit, did not ask him any questions. It seemed that she knew as well as he did, although she could not possibly have smelled the blood. There. He could hear them talking about how they were going to burn the 'fang-banger and the fanger' together. He could see them now, two men carrying the semi-conscious Sookie between them. Marie clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp.

The telepath must have sensed their presence, because she lifted her head and struggled against her captors. One of them slapped her to subdue her, making Logan's blood boil. 'Hang on in there, kid,' he thought, hoping that she would be able to hear him. 'Hang on. I'm gonna get you outta here, got that? That's a promise, an' I don't go back on my promises.' He wracked his brain for ideas as the two men dragged Sookie inside the largest building. He could hear a lot of voices coming from within; there were at least seventy people, and most were men. The walls of the building were coated with silver to prevent vampires from getting in or going out.

He poked a hole in the wall with a claw and peered inside. Yes, there were a lot of armed men, and some men in white robes embroidered with a yellow symbol of some sort. At the end of the building, opposite the single entrance, was a dais with a stone altar and a wooden cross that had been erected behind the altar. At the base of the cross was a pile of firewood. The men were talking about silver nails. Logan almost shuddered. As if being burned alive was not enough, they were going to crucify the two victims first, with the two of them nailed to the cross face to face.

If he was going to succeed in rescuing both Sookie and the vampire, he needed the element of surprise.

"Hey, kid?" he whispered. He knew she was listening even though she had not responded to him. "What do you think of a diversion?"

"Just tell me what to do, Logan," said Marie.

* * *

It was a simple and stupid plan. Logan had as much as told her that himself. But it was the only plan, and she was willing to try it if it meant that she had a chance of saving her cousin. Her palms were sweating profusely as she approached the doors of the building. They were made of metal and looked like the doors of a factory rather than a ceremonial chamber where murderous rituals took place. Luckily for her, they were not locked. She knew Logan was waiting for her signal. She needed to distract them so that he could scale the wall and then drop in near the dais so that he could get to Eric and Sookie before the members of the Fellowship got to them first.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the doors. She was Rogue, not Marie. Rogue. Rogue. Rogue. Rogue. "I hope I'm not too late, gentlemen," she said. Yes, that sounded bad. Very bad. She was good at drama class, but that was because she had lines. This time, she had to make it up herself. At the sound of her voice, Sookie lifted her head and tried to say her name. Marie tried her best to ignore how bad her cousin looked.

"I believe you have something of mine, and I want it back," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. Her heart was beating so loudly that she could hardly hear herself. She needed to be confident, and loud, and outrageous. Wait...she needed to draw on her inner Logan.

Having relied on his healing powers twice now, she was very much aware of how the Wolverine thought about things. Now, if only she could channel him...

"Who the heck are you?" asked one of the men in robes.

"That's none of your business, _bub_," she said. Come on, Logan. Drop in on them already! "You have my cousin and my friend—" Eric wasn't really her friend, but she was trying to inspire rage in these men so that they would not be able to notice someone climbing up their roof. "— and you'd better hand them over now, or you'll be sorry." She was aware that some of the men were already moving to surround her. Her hands strayed to her stolen revolvers. She was _not_ going to be defenceless.

"I think you're mistaken, fang-banger," said the man who had spoken to her. He was a huge man; not as tall as Logan, of course, but his shoulders were broad. Actually, he reminded her of a miniature Sabretooth in some ways. "The ones who are going to be sorry tonight are you, your cousin, and that child of Satan." He smiled. It was not a pleasant sight.

"I don't know how I can be a fang-banger if I'm a virgin," said Marie. Under normal circumstances, she'd never say such a thing. However, these were not normal circumstances. She needed to keep them distracted.

"I've never banged anything in my life, fanged or otherwise," she continued. "However, if it comes down to it, I'd rather bang him—" She jerked her head at the chained Eric. "—than you. And that's the truth of it." She let her eyes stray slowly down the robed man, and then flicked her gaze back to his face again. "At least with him, I can be pretty sure that it's not just the fabric." She hoped that Sookie and Eric were too preoccupied to actually listen to her. She would never live it down if either of them remembered that little speech of hers.

"You are going to go to hell, whore!" shouted the man. His face was growing very red indeed.

"If Heaven is for people like you, then maybe I don't want to go there," retorted Marie. They'd surrounded her completely by now, and they were advancing on her. Where the hell was Logan?

"Tonight, you shall face the wrath of God!" cried the man. He was completely insane; that was Marie's verdict.

"Yeah, but you're gonna face my wrath first," said a voice from the roof. All eyes turned to the hole in the roof. As they looked up, Logan dropped down and plummeted through the air, roaring as he did so, and nearly landed on Eric. The concrete cracked beneath his feet as he landed. The Wolverine did not stop. He dropped, rolled, and then with one swipe of his claws, cut through the barrel of one of the guns before throwing the unfortunate owner of said gun at his own comrades and then snatching the robed man who had been speaking to Marie. Everything happened so quickly that it was hard to follow. "Now, are you gonna let my friends go, or are you gonna say hi to the devil for me?" asked the Wolverine. He had one arm hooked around the man's thick neck and was pointing his claws at the man's face.

"You're all going to Hell!" shouted the man. Again. He seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else.

"Doesn't bother me," said Logan. "I've heard they have great barbecues down there." He tightened his grip around the man's neck and turned his attention to the rest of the gathered people. Some of them were pointing their weapons at him, but they seemed unsure of what to do. After all, this man had cracked concrete. "What's it gonna be, bub? We either all die here, or we can all leave and go home without killin' anyone."

At that moment, Sookie regained her senses. She kicked one of her captors in his unprotected shin, making him release her. Before anyone else could do anything, she'd driven the heel of her hand into her other captor's nose. The guns turned to her. Marie pulled out her own —stolen— revolver, and the Wolverine let out a resounding roar.

Everything happened all at once. Logan leapt in front of Sookie, taking a couple of bullets for her. One of them struck him in the forehead and glanced off his adamantium skull, leaving streaks of silver edged by bloody flesh. The wounds started knitting together even as they were formed.

Marie squeezed on the trigger of her gun and she felt the bullet shoot out. A man fell, screaming and clutching his thigh as blood pooled beneath him. There was no time for her to be shocked. She dashed for the dais, only to be grabbed from behind. She was no match for the man, who was easily twice her size. He threw her to the ground. Her breath was knocked from her lungs. He was about to pounce on her, but she rolled away just in time, very thankful for the self-defence classes that she'd taken at school. Back then, she'd only been thinking of the credits she needed in order to pass, but now she realized just how useful that class had been. She pulled off her glove with her teeth, and as the man lunged for her again, she reached up and touched his face.

At once, she could feel the energy flowing through her. She wanted to hurt him, she realized, and that frightened her more than anything. She knew what this man was feeling, and she could hear his voice inside her head, calling her a whore and a bitch and a demon as his life was leeched out. More than anything, he was terrified and confused. She forced herself to release him. He fell to the ground, jerking and choking, with foam coming out of his mouth. It was as if she was a spectator watching everything happen from very far away.

And then she was drawn back to the present. There was a vampire who needed rescuing, and her cousin and best friend were fighting for their lives. Marie ran up the steps to the altar. If she could somehow release Eric, then he might be able to help them, somehow. An arm flew over her head. Normally, she'd have been disgusted, but the adrenaline kept her from feeling sick. "Oh, come on!" she cried as she fumbled with the chains. They were so tangled that it that it was hard to tell where one chain began or ended. Perhaps it was just one huge chain. She tugged at the chains, aware that she was causing the vampire pain but too desperate to care. She just wanted to get out of there.

"Marie!" Sookie was screaming. "Behind you!"

Marie whipped around to see someone aiming for her. For a moment, she thought she was going to die. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. There was a bang. It sounded so distant. The bullet was moving towards her. She prayed that it would hit the Kevlar. It never hit anything.

All the bullets suddenly dropped, and the metal roof of the building was ripped open as if it was made of no more than newspaper. A robed figure descended slowly and regally from the sky, supported by an unknown force. As the figure's feet touched the ground, he tutted and smiled indulgently. "You _Homo sapiens_ and your guns," he said.

"Man, I _hate_ that guy," muttered Logan.

"I heard that, Wolverine," said Magneto. "And may I say that it's always a pleasure to see you."

"What are you doing here?" demanded Marie, forgetting about Eric and Sookie for the moment. She hated Magneto as much as Logan did. Here was one person she could gladly kill.

"Saving your arses, my dear, if I may put it delicately," said the other mutant. "If dear Mystique hadn't used all her powers of persuasion, I might just have left you all to die. It would have been no great loss to me."

* * *

Sookie knew she was staring. Everyone was staring. She had never seen anything like this. Bullets dropping in mid-air? Guns turning on their owners _on their own_? She had known that the world was strange, but this was _too _strange.

Another person walked in. This time, it was a woman. A naked blue scaly woman with a head of bright red hair. "It seems that I'm not too late, after all," she said with a coy smile.

"How did you find me?" asked Logan. "And what's he doin' here?" He jerked his head at the old man.

"You said to talk to Erik," said the blue woman. Obviously, she was not talking about the vampire on the altar. "So I did, and when I heard that you'd been negotiating with vampires, I thought he'd be useful, and he is."

"You never cease to surprise me, Wolverine," said the old man. Erik.

"You don't know me as well as you think, Magneto," said Logan. Ah, so this was the infamous Magneto. She should have realized. After all, how many metal mangling mutants were there? No wonder both Logan and Marie had been so hostile towards him; he'd nearly used Marie as a weapon of mass destruction.

Magneto shook his head once again and turned to the members of the Fellowship of the Sun. They seemed unable to move, mesmerized with fear and awe. "When I left Poland for America, I thought that this would be the land of the free, the land of tolerance, but I suppose I was deluding myself. There is no tolerance to be found. Some people just happen to be more honest about their prejudices." He raised his hand and closed his eyes. Sookie could feel a great power building up in the air. She tried to read the man's mind, but he was thinking in Polish or German. At any rate, it wasn't a language that she understood.

The men began to scream as their chainmail started crushing them. Blood issued from their noses and mouths as they were slowly compressed by an unknown force. She couldn't scream. She could hardly breathe. This was not happening. She hated these men, but no one deserved to die like this! No one! Her vision began to blur. Her mind had taken too much in the last twenty-four hours. She'd seen too much horror and suffering. She was vaguely aware of her cousin rushing up to the newcomer and grabbing his neck with her bare hand. And then the power started dying down. The old man fell to his knees, gasping for breath, although Marie refused to let him go.

Realization of what she had done finally dawned in the girl's eyes. She abruptly releaed her hold on the old man's neck, letting him fall to the ground, barely conscious. Magneto's veins stood out beneath his ashen translucent skin. He was paler than a vampire, if that was even possible. Marie stared at her hand and then at the man lying at her feet. Sookie had never seen anyone look so terrified, nor had she ever sensed so much fear.

No one made a move. No one, that was, except Logan. He took a step towards Marie. "Kid..." he began. His voice was soft, soothing, gentle. He was nothing like the killer he had been a minute ago.

"Don't," said Marie in a broken whisper. She took a step backwards away from her friend. "Don't come near me. I don't want to hurt you, Logan."

"You won't hurt me, kid," said the man. Sookie suddenly saw how deep their bond was. Logan had complete and total trust in Marie even though Marie did not trust herself. The girl was terrified that she might end up hurting someone else, or even killing them. She wasn't in control of herself. There was another voice inside her mind, urging her to kill, to destroy, to revel in the power she had over these people.

"Just don't, Logan," begged Marie. "Please..." Some of the Soldiers of the Sun or whatever the hell they called themselves had not been as badly injured as the others, and they started climbing to their feet, reaching for their weapons. In an instant, Marie was aiming her hand at them. The silver chains that hung from their belts wrapped themselves around the men's necks. The girl's breathing was harsh and her pupils were dilated.

"Kid, let go," said Logan. "You don't want to kill them, trust me. You don't want to do this." His voice seemed to have some effect on her, because the chains fell with a clatter to the concrete floor. Logan gave the soldiers a sideways glance. "If you wanna live, don't fucking move."

Sookie heard him thinking about how much support Marie was going to need and how traumatized she was going to be. And he knew that she could hear his thoughts. That was a big hint, not that Sookie actually needed said hint. She slowly approached her cousin, taking care not to startle her. "Marie," she murmured. "You can relax now, honey. It's all right. Everything's going to be fine." She didn't know how fine things were going to be, but it seemed to be the best thing to say. The words didn't matter as much as the tone of her voice. She felt Marie relax just a little. Knowing that there were people who cared for her helped a lot.

Perhaps the Soldiers of the Sun were all total idiots, or perhaps they just hated non-humans that much, because one of them slowly reached out for his gun. Marie tensed again and she pointed one finger at him. "You try anything, and I might not be able to control myself," she warned. Her voice sounded so cold, so foreign. Finally, the lesson sank in, and the man stayed very still.

* * *

Dammit! Talk about overkill. The silver chains had been wrapped around the vampire so many times that Logan didn't know where he ought to start unwinding them from. Then he decided that he couldn't be bothered with figuring it out. If Alexander the Great could cut the Gordian Knot, then the Wolverine could cut the silver chains. Multiple times. Sparks flew as the adamantium claws slashed through the links of soft metal. "This is gonna hurt, bub," he told Northman. It was only polite to give him a warning. The vampire did not speak, but gave him a withering glance that conveyed everything he needed to say. "Just tryin' to be friendly," muttered Logan. The metal had adhered to the vampire's burned flesh, making the removal of the chains decidedly unpleasant. Bits of skin stuck to the chains as he lifted them off the vampire.

Northman looked absolutely awful, and that was a fact. He groaned in pain as the metal was removed.

"I need blood," whispered Northman. Logan might not have been an expert at reading between the lines, but even he knew what that meant. He sighed and offered the vampire his wrist.

"If you drain me, I'll cut your head off," he warned.

Instead of replying, the vampire plunged his fangs into the proffered wrist. Logan grunted in pain; no, he really did _not_ see what was so erotic about being a vampire snack. In fact, it hurt a lot, and he was one who was accustomed to pain. Northman sucked in a great mouthful, and then he suddenly pushed Logan's hand away, swallowed the blood, and started coughing. "What the hell did you eat?" demanded the vampire in between coughs.

"Pizza and garlic bread," said Logan blandly. Was this supposed to happen? "Maybe it's the garlic—"

"It's not the garlic," gasped the vampire. "I know what garlic tastes like." He slowly sat up and swung his long legs over the edge of the altar.

"Maybe it's the mutant gene, then," snapped Logan. It was insulting, actually, to be told that his blood tasted awful after he had so generously offered it.

The vampire wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and flexed his fingers. The wounds on his body were healing at a rapid pace. "Well, at least my blood works," said Logan. He sounded defensive and he knew it.

"It works," said Northman. "In fact, it works incredibly well. I do not think I have felt this way for a very long time. I shouldn't be feeling this good with all this silver around me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Logan. The wounds on his wrist had already healed. "You can think about it later. Right now, we've got to go rescue Romeo."


	8. Choir of Angels

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 8: Choir of Angels**

From the outside, it looked so unremarkable. It was just one shed out of many other sheds, and yet, beneath their feet lay remarkable suffering. This was where they had kept her cousin, bruised and beaten, and this was where they were keeping the missing vampires. There was no need to be careful now; the news was out. The entire compound knew that there was an attack. Marie could hear their shouts, like the baying of hunting dogs, behind them. She felt someone place a hand on her shoulder. Much to her surprise, it was Eric. It was not a friendly gesture, however. The vampire just wanted her attention. "Now's not the time to hesitate, little Marie," he said. For a short moment, she thought about ripping the silver coated door from its hinges and throwing it at him. His condescending attitude was becoming very irritating indeed, and she was not in the mood to humour him. However, he was right.

Marie did rip the silver coated door from its hinges, but she did not throw it at Eric, despite the huge temptation. He'd suffered enough for one night, she figured, and it also wasn't the best way to convince him that an alliance with mutants would be beneficial to him.

The guards within were completely unprepared, so Marie had no trouble disarming them. "Face the wall!" roared Logan after their guns were ripped from their hands. "I don't wanna hurt nobody, but I ain't got a problem with hurtin' someone if you don't do as I say, got it?" With no other choice available to them other than suicide, the men did as they were told, although they did so whilst shouting at their attackers, threatening them with hellfire and brimstone.

"You go on in and rescue the vampires," said Marie to her cousin and friend. Mystique would probably have liked to be here, but she had been charged with looking after the drained Magneto. She hadn't been too happy about it, since _he _had not taken care of her after she'd been shot with those cure darts, but she also knew that it would not benefit anyone except their enemies if Magneto ended up dying. "I'll stay out here and guard the door."

"Are you sure, kid?" said Logan.

"I'll be fine, Logan, really," said Marie. "I've...I've got Magneto's powers."

"Still..." said Logan doubtfully.

"I'll stay out here with her, Mutant," said Eric suddenly, surprising everyone. "I wouldn't be much help with the silver chains anyway."

* * *

He'd thought he'd seen everything there was to see. Apparently, he was wrong. This was one of the first times when he'd been glad that he'd been wrong. Eric turned to look at the girl. Never before had he encountered something like Sookie's cousin. She had so much power. How on earth had she managed to not use it to her own advantage? It seemed to him that she was afraid of herself, afraid of what she could do. She had too much compassion; that intrigued him. He had never understood compassion, not as a human and definitely not as a vampire. Loyalty, he knew, rage, and lust and exultation. But never this 'virtue' which he saw as being a weakness. It warranted some examination.

The vampire took the opportunity to observe her now. Her overprotective friend obviously thought that she was capable of protecting herself at the moment, now that she had done something to take that other mutant's powers, or else he would never have left her alone with him. Eric knew that Logan didn't trust him at all.

He would have liked to talk to her, to ask her extremely probing and offensive questions about her life, but now was not the time. He could see the soldiers, bearing their wooden stakes, silver chains and guns loaded with silver bullets. He might have ingested some very interesting blood that made him feel as if he could take on the world, but he knew that he couldn't.

"Are you ready?" he murmured.

"No," said Marie, not even glancing at him. "Are you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Eric nonchalantly, preparing himself for the assault. The assault never came.

There was a loud mechanical roar as a futuristic looking jet landed in front of the shed's broken door, effectively blocking the humans' charge. A hatch opened, and who should walk out but the humans' Messiah?

Of course, Eric recognized the metamorph's scent. Like all mutants, her scent was very unique. He had to hand it to her. This was nothing short of brilliant. At that moment, he made up his mind. Once this little debacle was over, he was going to see the Queen. She would be very interested in these people.

* * *

At first, Bill thought he was hallucinating. Maybe he'd been in the presence of silver for too long. Maybe the humans had injected him with something, because there was no way in the world that Christ could be standing there in front of a...spaceship? However, it soon dawned on him that he wasn't the only one seeing the miraculous sight. Logan swore under his breath. "You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me," he said.

"Logan!" said Sookie, who was crossing herself with her free hand.

"What? You don't seriously believe that God is standing there, do you? I'm not sure he even exists!"

"You have so little faith, Logan," said 'Jesus'. "I am standing right here, and yet you doubt my existence." His eyes flashed yellow. If Bill had had the energy, he would have cursed too.

"I knew it," whispered Logan. "Don't worry, Billy boy; it's just Mystique. She ain't gonna smote you down with her awesome power." He winked at the wounded vampire, who simply did not see what was so funny about the situation. Being burned with silver for a prolonged period of time did something to a vampire's sense of humour, not that he'd had much of one to begin with.

"Oi! Northman!" called Logan. "What are we gonna do about the dozen hungry vamps down there?"

"You could free them and let them rampage through the compound draining every human in sight," came Eric's reply. His fangs were fully extended. Clearly, that idea excited him. "Or, if you are squeamish, you can lend me your cell phone and let me call the King of Texas, and then we'll let him deal with the vampires, since this is his turf."

"I think I crushed my phone when I jumped down that roof to save you," said Logan. "Hey, kid, have you got yours?"

* * *

Marie watched Eric out of the corner of her eye as he dialled a number on her phone and then put it to his ear. Inevitably, her eyes strayed downwards to the tawny chest hair, the sculpted pectorals and the amazingly well defined abs. They had removed his jacket and shirt when they had prepared him for the ritual, and so far, they had been unsuccessful in relocating his clothing, not that Eric seemed to have a problem with his shirtless state. The man was Adonis. With fangs; long sharp fangs that he used to puncture the necks of his victims. Somehow, the image did not repel her. She turned her attention back to the soldiers. Now was definitely _not_ the time to think about a vampire's muscles, no matter how good they looked.

Eric didn't have to wait long before someone answered his call. He quickly gave a rundown of what had transpired, taking care to leave out names, or real names, at any rate. Of course, Sookie's came up, and Bill's, but he referred to himself as Leif Erikson. "The king is coming," he said as he hung up. "I think we should leave before he gets here. I don't want him finding out about you."

"Why not?" asked Logan.

"Because he's not my king," said Eric. "If he finds out, he will inevitably want you to serve him, and I don't want that. Vampire politics. Trust me; the less you know about it, the better."

Marie wasn't sure she trusted Eric, but she certainly did not want to be commandeered by the King of Texas. At least with Eric, she more or less knew what to expect. Or so she thought.

* * *

The jet was very impressive. Sookie had never seen anything like it. These were Marie's _teachers_? Her teachers had driven old Fords or Hondas and run school fairs to raise funds. They certainly did not pilot super-advanced planes and change their appearances to trick a bunch of fundamentalists. "This is insane," said Bill as he strapped himself in painfully. His wounds were still bleeding sluggishly. "I've never seen a plane like this before."

"You shouldn't have," said Mystique from the pilot's seat. "This is top secret." She flicked a couple of switches, and the engine came to life. "Are we heading to Shreveport?"

"Can you make it there before daybreak?" asked Eric.

"If I can't, you can always sleep in the cargo hold," said the mutant, who was once again in her natural form. Bill wondered if she even had a natural form, or whether this was simply the form she preferred. He was lightheaded from the excitement of the night and from his injuries. Why was Eric looking so great? He shouldn't look that great. He needed a drink. Badly.

As if he could read his mind, Logan extended his wrist. "Here," he said. "As long as you don't make a habit out of this, and as long as you don't tell me that my blood tastes bad." He threw a dirty look in Eric's direction. The other vampire grinned back. Bill didn't stop to wonder why Logan was saying such odd things. He plunged his fangs into the proffered arm and drank deeply. Two things happened at once. His head cleared, and he felt as if he had swallowed a mouthful of ground peppercorns. He immediately retracted his fangs and started coughing.

"Geez, I knew you vampires didn't like garlic, but I only had a little bit," said Logan.

"That's not garlic," wheezed Bill. Apart from the fact that his mouth and throat were on fire, he felt wonderful. Logan sounded terribly insulted and the vampire felt a little bit guilty. "It's not that I'm not grateful, Logan, but...what are you?"

* * *

Marie noticed that Eric was watching her. She glanced sideways at him, carefully keeping her eyes lowered so that it wouldn't seem as if she was looking at him. He made her uncomfortable in so many different ways. Her eyes strayed to his hands. They were large, strong and well-formed. Wasn't the size of a man's hand an indicator of the size of his...Marie jerked herself away from that line of thought. She shouldn't be thinking about the vampire that way, even if he _did_ resemble Adonis, or perhaps Apollo, which was ironic because one of the few things that could kill the vampire was the sun. Did he remember her little speech back at the base? Marie risked glancing up at his face. He was grinning at her, revealing his straight white teeth, and although his fangs were retracted, he still looked extremely dangerous. When her eyes met his, he winked. Oh God! He _had_ remembered, and he'd seen her looking at his hands. Marie felt her face growing hot. As if this day was not bad enough —she'd almost _killed_ people, for God's sake!— it just had to get worse.

Luckily for her, the vampire didn't say anything about it. If he had, she might just have either tried to use her borrowed powers to strangle him with something or died of mortification. Neither outcome would have been particularly desirable. From then on, she kept her eyes focused on her _own_ hands and refused to let her gaze stray anywhere else, lest she be tempted to look at the half-naked vampire again.

"Are we simply going to leave without telling the King where we're going?" said Sookie.

"_I_ am leaving," said Eric. "I don't want Stan Davis to know that I was involved. He simply thinks I'm passing through."

"Oh yeah," said Logan. "You said somethin' about comin' here for personal business." All eyes turned to him. Marie had not heard that before. Logan must have overheard one of Eric's private conversations. The vampire's gaze made the Arctic Circle look warm in comparison. Logan, to his credit, simply shrugged. It was hard to intimidate the Wolverine. "You're not the only one with good hearin', bub, and you were right next door." When no one said anything, he simply ploughed on. "It's got somethin' to do with your parent, hasn't it?"

"How did you know?" whispered Eric.

"He told us where you were, otherwise, we'd still have been lookin' for you and _you_ would be dead."

"You saw Godric?"

"I assume it was Godric," said Logan. "He never said his name, an' he mistook me for someone else. He's got lots of tattoos, right?"

"Yes, that's Godric," said Eric. "Where is he?" He looked surprisingly desperate, like a lost child seeking his mother, which was exactly the case here.

"You mean, if he hasn't committed suicide yet?" Marie wanted to groan. Trust Logan to be so tactful.

* * *

The jet landed some distance away from the church. Northman would have no problem getting there. Logan had seen just how quickly vampires could move. In fact, he was willing to bet that they could go faster than his motorcycle and his motorcycle was pretty damn fast. He was right. Northman flew into that church. Literally flew. He didn't have wings, he wasn't able to control the wind the way Storm could and he wasn't using magnetic energy or else the Wolverine would have felt it, but somehow, against all scientific reasoning, he flew. "I think we should go and make sure that he doesn't kill everyone in the church," said Logan.

* * *

He could sense he was near. His maker. His father, his brother, his son. The one person who had made him everything he was. Godric was many things; a tormenter of innocents, a murderer of children. He had done things over the centuries that had disgusted the most hard-hearted of soldiers, including some of his own progeny. But to Eric, that hardly mattered. He might not have agreed with Godric's ways, but he was still his maker, and Eric owed him everything.

Godric had sensed him too, for he was waiting at the back of the church, outside the door that the mutant had broken down. Eric took in the sight of his maker, illuminated only by the thin sliver of moon in the sky and by the faint light of the stars. He was draped in a long white robe, and his tattoos, or what Eric could see of them, stood out starkly. He looked ethereal, almost, as if he was already beyond this world.

"Why have you come, my child?" asked Godric. His voice was heavy; too heavy for a young voice like his. "You should not have come."

"I thought..." said Eric as he knelt. What had he thought? That Godric had been kidnapped? Looking back, he knew it was foolish. Godric wasn't like the others who had been captured. He was far too powerful for that. "Why are you doing this, Godric?" he whispered.

"Do you ever look at yourself, Eric?" asked the other vampire, not looking down at him. "I've done things. Terrible things, and I can't stop doing them. The guilt weighs down on me, crushing me. I have to do this. This is right. It is the only way."

"No, it isn't," said Eric. "I can...I..."

"You can what, my child?" asked the ancient vampire. He smiled; a bitter smile. "It is easier to move a mountain than to change one's character, especially one that has been established as long as mine has been. I think I have done enough. In two millennia, I have done enough and seen enough. I do not wish to see any more."

"You cannot simply leave!"

"What is there to hold me back? You no longer need me, my child. None of my children need me anymore. It is time for me to let go, and for you to let go. This is the dawn of a new era. There is no place for me in this world anymore. I do not know if I have ever had a place in this world. I have tired of the moon and stars, of the never-ending night. I wish to see the sun again."

"You do not mean that." Eric swallowed. He could feel the blood running down his face. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. His maker was leaving; it was as if everything he had ever known was falling apart and disintegrating, revealing an alien world. It was a terrifying and bleak world.

"On the contrary, I have never been more honest, either to myself or to anyone else," said the ancient vampire. He turned his face to the sky. There were tears of blood in his eyes too. "After all these years of living in the night, I am ready to greet the dawn again. There was a time when I would be up before the sun, and I would watch it rise over the green hills as I guarded my herd. It was beautiful."

"I'm not interruptin' anythin', am I?" said another voice, jolting the two vampires out of their thoughts. In normal circumstances, Eric might have attacked whoever dared to interrupt him at a moment like this, but tonight, he simply felt deflated, as if everything that had kept him going for so many centuries had simply gone. He didn't even glance back.

"Do you always ask questions to which you already know the answers, nephilim?" said Godric, turning to the newcomer.

"Do I always know that I know the answers?" said Logan. "Hey, if you want me to leave, just say so." He was smoking one of his obnoxious cheap cigars again; Eric could smell the smoke. Wait...Nephilim? Logan was _Nephilim_? No, it couldn't be. Descendant of an angel? He couldn't imagine anyone less like an angel than the mutant.

"No," said Godric. "Stay. I had not expected one of God's children to be here to witness my passing."

"Sorry, bub, but I don't think God exists," said Logan.

"If He didn't, you wouldn't be here right now, speaking to me," said Godric. "I do not believe it was coincidence that brought us to meet. I do not believe in coincidences. There is a reason you are here right now, nephilim."

"If you say so, bub," said Logan with complete and utter irreverence. For the first time in many centuries, Eric heard Godric laugh.

"You will find out soon enough, Son of Gabriel," said Godric. He turned to Eric. "The sun will rise in a few moments, my child. You should go."

"No," said Eric. "I won't let you go alone."

"You will," said Godric. "It is a command, Eric. Go. I shall not be alone, not with a nephilim watching over me." No matter how much he wished to, he could not disobey his maker. Slowly, he got to his feet and left for the jet.


	9. Sin and Retribution

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize.**

**NB: **I used a mix of book Godric and TV Godric.

**Chapter 9: Sin and Retribution**

The sun was rising in the east, its golden rays slowly creeping across the sleeping earth, waking it up. It was silent, apart from the chirping of a few birds. Godric turned his face towards the rising sun. He was beginning to smoke. Logan's cigar dangled from his fingers. He'd forgotten it was even there as he watched the ancient vampire close his eyes and lift his hands to the sky as if in ecstasy. Flames of blue and gold appeared on his skin. His robe caught on fire quickly. Logan's first instinct was to tackle the vampire and roll him around on the ground until the fire died, but he made himself stay where he was. The flames engulfed Godric's body quickly, and when they died down, there was simply a charred spot on the yellow grass and the smallest pile of ash.

* * *

Marie had never seen a vampire weep, and she had much less expected a man like Eric to weep. He had seemed so cold, like a marble statue. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and calculating as he liked people to think he was. Without asking, he found the door to the cargo hold, opened it, went in and shut it behind him. Bill had already retired for the day. Logan returned a few minutes later, looking remarkably sombre. "So..." began Marie. She didn't even need to say anything else. Logan understood her perfectly. The Wolverine nodded and then took a long draw from his cigar again before blowing out a stream of smoke.

"So, are we goin' back to the hotel?" he said. "I'm thinkin' of hash browns and sausages, an' some way to drop that metal manglin' bugger off."

"I heard that, Wolverine," said Magneto without opening his eyes. He looked slightly better, although Marie suspected that he would need sustenance for further recovery. She was more than happy to deny him for just a little while longer. "Tell me, are you always so charming?"

* * *

Mystique landed the jet on the helicopter landing pad on the roof after having made sure that no helicopters were scheduled to land there until sundown. The staff of the hotel had been boggled at first by the sight of the jet, but they were well-trained enough not to comment on it. Sookie, however, could sense their confusion quite clearly. Her shields were down after the tumultuous events of the night; it was simply too hard to block out thoughts.

The vampires would probably stay in the cargo-hold for the rest of the day, since it was too difficult to move them without exposing them to sunlight. "Go on, kid," said Logan as she glanced back at the jet. She wanted to stay there and be close to Bill. "He'll be fine. Mystique ain't leavin' this baby behind and she'll make sure no one touches your Romeo. You need a bath an' somethin' to eat and _then_ you're gonna sleep until your vampire wakes up, all right?"

Sookie tried to protest, but Logan would have none of it. "I'm not a kid, Logan," she said as he steered her towards her room.

"You're twenty five," said Logan. "That's...a fraction of my age."

"You don't really remember your age, do you?" She was feeling a bit lightheaded, to be honest. Perhaps Logan was right. A bath, some food and a nice long sleep would do her good. Too bad Bill couldn't be with her.

* * *

When she woke up, it was dark outside, and there was a tepid body curved around hers. Sookie breathed in his familiar scent. He'd showered, and he smelled a bit like her strawberry shower gel. "Bill," she murmured, closing her eyes again. It felt so great to simply snuggle with him in bed, although she wouldn't say no to some food either. Her stomach growled, agreeing with her. "What time is it?"

"Nearly six thirty," he murmured against her neck. She felt his soft cool lips brushing her skin, raising goose pimples. "And as much as I'd like to stay here like this for longer, we can't."

"Why not?" asked Sookie, a little bit annoyed.

"Because the King of Texas has invited us to a...party, if you will," said Bill. She could barely suppress a groan. After everything that had happened the night before, she wasn't ready to deal with vampire politics yet again. Now, Bill might not have been a telepath, but he certainly seemed to be able to read her mind, because she felt him laugh silently before brushing her tangled hair away from her face and kissing her cheek. "I know, sweetheart, but when the king invites you, you cannot not go. Marie and Logan have been invited as well."

That made her sit up immediately. "How did he find out about them?" she asked.

"Stan Davis is no idiot," said Bill wryly. "If he were, he wouldn't be king. I don't think it's as serious as you're making it sound, my darling. It is a well known fact that you have a two humans travelling with you, after all."

"Still, I'm just a bit worried," admitted Sookie as she rubbed her face with both hands, trying to get rid of the lingering sleep. "What time do we have to be there?"

"At eight," said Bill. "Shall I call room service and order something for you? I doubt they will be serving human food at the nest." Sookie raised an eyebrow at him. Usually, Bill hated seeing her, or any other human, eat. She supposed it reminded of the times when they could eat solid food. A diet of human blood had to be rather boring.

"You deserve some pampering, my Sookie," said the vampire with a smile. "You go ahead and shower. I shall call room service."

The hot water felt wonderful on her still sore body. Sookie quickly rinsed out her hair, rubbed down her body —and taking note of all the bruises— and brushed her teeth before putting on a bit of pale pink lipstick and just a dab of lipgloss to make her lips look more pouty. She didn't want to look as if she was dressing up especially to see the King, but one could not treat a meeting with vampire royalty like a meeting with...say...Sam Merlotte. The bruise on her face was now a disgusting yellow and black. She found her stick of concealer and dabbed some on, gently smoothing it out with her fingers so that it blended in with her skin. She bypassed the eye make-up. This was more than what she usually wore already and mascara only made her eyes feel sticky, which was something she could do without tonight. "How are Marie and Logan?" she asked as she pulled on her underwear.

"Tired, fine, grumpy that they have to dress up," called Bill from the other side of the bathroom door. "Well, Logan is grumpy, as usual. Do you need any help?"

"You'd be less than helpful, Bill," said Sookie, going straight to the point. Knowing Bill, he'd get distracted by her naked body the minute he came in, and he'd ruin her make-up.

"True," admitted the vampire. "But I'd still like to try."

Sookie put her bathrobe back on. It was a pity that she'd have to open the bathroom door to let the warm steam out. The wet air just had a different feel to it. It seemed to muffle her troubles, and it was so comfortable. She turned the door handle and stepped back out into the room. Bill was sitting on the bed. On the low coffee table was a tray of food, with a bowl of fruit salad, a quiche, dinner rolls and a pot of coffee. He'd even taken the liberty of setting out an outfit for her on the bed which was, coincidentally, something he'd insisted on buying for her and making her bring.

"I've read that black becomes any woman," he said when she'd frowned at him. "I know you like colours, Sookie, but since you were in a hurry, I thought this would suffice." It was a tailored satin sheath with a tapered skirt and a slit at the back to make walking easier. Bill's taste veered towards the classic and conservative. The hem was two inches above her knee, giving her the illusion of long legs. It was simple and sexy, without being too sexy. Perhaps just right for such an occasion.

"I feel so overdressed," she said as she pulled on the dress. It had a halter neck, with a thick embellished collar and it covered her cleavage, but it made up for that coverage by baring her back.

"Trust me," said Bill, "There will be human companions dressed in those ghastly leather and lace outfits, with the spiked collars and studs. You will look very demure in comparison to them."

"And what are you going to wear? A three piece tuxedo?"

"I never saw the appeal in dressing up as a penguin," said Bill. "But I will be wearing a tie." He held up a necktie covered with images of Bugs Bunny.

"Swap?" said Sookie.

"Now, now, my dear," said Bill with a mischievous look in his eye. Did someone feed him caffeine-laced TruBlood? Did caffeine even work on vampires? This was most uncharacteristic of him. Perhaps it was the close brush with death... "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I fear you will attract too much attention if you turn up to the king's house wearing nothing but a Bugs Bunny tie."

Sookie had been about to pop a grape into her mouth. She lobbed it at Bill instead.

* * *

The best gloves she could find were riding gloves. They didn't exactly go with her outfit, but they were clean and black, so no one would really notice, would they? Marie decided to let down her hair for the evening. It was a party, wasn't it? That was what Bill had said. What did one wear to vampire parties? An image of capes with upturned collars came to mind and she almost snorted. The rest of her clothes were black; no one had said that she'd be attending formal functions, and the most formal thing she had was a black silk blouse with ruffles on the front and a black pencil skirt. As always, she wore the Tiger's Eye studs that Logan had given her for her eighteenth birthday.

The only semi-formal shoes she'd brought were a pair of black ballet flats with bows. They'd have to do; she was definitely not splurging on a pair of fancy shoes just for one party. It was hot enough to go barelegged, but she was afraid that someone might accidentally touch her skin, so she slipped on a pair of sheer black tights. They weren't too thick, so she wouldn't be too hot, but they would probably be enough to prevent people from getting killed. Such were the safety measures she had to take now that her powers were back.

Marie looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked like she was going to a funeral, not a party. Should she change the black blouse for a beige version? No, that made her look way too much like an airline hostess and the gloves would stand out. Finally, she decided on a slick of red lipstick. Nothing screamed 'sex' more than red lipstick, or so Jubilee had said.

There was a knock on the door. "You ready, kid?" came Logan's voice.

"Coming!" she called back as she stuffed cash, lipstick, her phone and her card key into the pocket of her skirt and grabbed her blazer. Blazers went with everything and anything. No, she didn't care that she looked like she was off to a day at the office, and it wouldn't look so bad if she rolled up the sleeves. Logan, as always, was in his jeans and leather jacket, although he'd changed his singlet for a plaid shirt. That was the extent of his 'dressing up'.

"Lookin'...sombre, kid," he said when he saw her. "Who died?"

"Shut up," she said, smacking him playfully in the arm. "No one said there was going to be a cocktail party at the king's. You look like a cowboy."

"Well, this is Texas," said Logan. "Think I should go and get myself a hat? I saw some down in the souvenir shop in the hotel."

"And ruin that hair of yours? No way!"

* * *

It was weird, being in a room full of undead things. It was easy to tell humans apart from vampires; the humans were the ones dressed in outlandish costumes and the vampires dressed like normal people. The vampires also glowed in the dark, which made him think of fluorescent targets. He'd already seen several vampires, both male and female, eyeing him with curiosity. It wasn't that he didn't like vampires —he liked Bill and disliked Northman, so all in all, his view on vampires was pretty neutral, considering the fact they were the only two vampires he actually knew— but he had no interest in being snacked on ever again, either by a vampire or by anything else.

He made his way over to the bar. At least the bartender looked like every other posh bartender he had ever met. "I'll have a bourbon on the rocks," he said.

The bartender poured him his drink and slid it across the bench. Logan caught it and lifted it to his lips. "You don't seem like the type of guy who would be..." began the young man, looking from Logan to the vampires, but one raised eyebrow from the Wolverine made him swallow the rest of his sentence.

"Excuse me?" asked Logan.

"Well, I'm not judging you or anything," stammered the boy. "It's just that...you know...never mind."

"I ain't doin' a vampire if that's what you're thinkin'," said Logan. He downed the drink in one gulp and held out his glass for a refill. "I'm a bodyguard of sorts."

"A daywalker, then?" asked the boy.

"A what?"

"You know, a daywalker; someone who does a vampire's work during the day."

Logan decided to go with that. It would be too messy to try and describe his professional relationship with the vamps and he wasn't sure he wanted the boy to know. He looked around for a familiar face. Marie was sitting alone on the couch, nursing a glass of lemonade that had long since grown warm. She was as uncomfortable as he was, if not more so. The last time Logan had seen her, she'd been talking with Sookie and Bill, but it seemed that the other two had gone off to do some other business. He was about to go over and sit next to her, but someone bet him there first.

* * *

Eric didn't know what drove him to sit beside Sookie's cousin. Perhaps he needed someone to take his mind off things, and Marie's little genetic gift was certainly very distracting. She glanced at him warily, like a spooked rodent, seemingly unsure of what to make of him. For a moment, he thought that she might try and get up and move elsewhere, but she stayed. "You look like you're attending a funeral," he said.

She started, as if she had not expected him to actually speak to her. Had she thought that he was merely going to sit there in brooding silence beside her? What was the point in that? "Somebody did..." she began, but then she thought better of it and cut herself off before she could actually say what was on her mind. Eric was thankful for it, because he might have done something truly regrettable otherwise. "I thought you were going back to California," she said. Ah, so she remembered it was important to keep up the act.

"It would be rude of me not to attend the party when the king himself had invited me," he said. Indeed, it would have been incredibly rude, not to mention suspicious. He was supposed to be Leif Erikson, who had nothing whatsoever to do with Eric Northman or Godric. Why should he be grieving for a vampire he had not known? And, speaking of which, why should he even be grieving? It was highly impractical and absolutely pointless. Mourning wasn't going to bring Godric back. However, he couldn't help it. He wasn't in total control of his emotions, as Godric had told him he ought to be, and that irked him.

Marie seemed to be sensing that all was _not_ right with him, because she just sat there and took occasional sips from her drink. Lemonade, he noted, and not something stronger. She liked to play by the rules. For someone who had so much potential to kill, she was deliciously innocent and naive. Godric had once said that one could taste someone's character from their blood, which was why he had preferred children. They were purer. There he was, thinking about Godric again. Why were his thoughts going around and around in circles? He struck his knee with his fist in frustration, causing Marie to pause in mid-sip. She swallowed and looked as if she had been about to say something, but then thought better of it. She was a smart girl, this one. She knew when to shut up.

"Get down!" Sookie suddenly screamed, completely without warning. Eric knew better than to question her. He flung himself and Marie to the ground just as something smashed through the glass.

* * *

Logan felt the heat on his face and he was pretty sure the blast had made his ears bleed; sometimes, sensitive hearing was a nightmare, especially when the girls had been having _Twilight_ marathons back at the school. He usually went out to the pub during those nights, or spent his time anywhere but inside the mansion where he could hear every single bit of bad dialogue and all the ensuing enamoured squeals. Yes, he loved those kids as if they were his own, but no, he did not approve of their obsessive love for sparkling moving marble statues.

Of course, there was no squealing right now, although there was a lot of screaming as humans and vampires alike were blown back by the bomb blasts. He felt shrapnel tear through his shoulder from behind, emerging from the front and he was damn peeved; those fundies had ruined his favourite vintage leather jacket. Splinters flew everywhere. Everything had happened so suddenly that hardly anyone had had the time to duck for cover. If Sookie had not screamed out a warning, he had no doubt that even more people would have been hit.

As the booms of the blasts died down, he became aware of the terrible and barely human screams. Vampires were burning, humans lay bleeding, and many others had been hit by silver shrapnel. He scrambled to his feet, tore off his ruined jacket and started beating out the flame that was consuming one of the vampires closest to him, but machinegun fire made him drop the coat. Men in armour were pouring in, armed with stakes, guns and silver chains. Already, the surviving vampires were rallying and preparing for a battle for their lives. He spotted Northman, and Bill, and the king of Texas amongst those who were preparing for the fight. There weren't very many vampires who were able to fight, to be honest. Most of them had been injured by the blast. The humans were no help at all, as at least half of them had perished and the rest could not even get up.

Well, there was only one thing for it. Those fundamentalists had declared war, and Logan was very clear about which side he was on. 'Sookie,' he thought very hard. 'If you can hear me, call Mystique.' Was that her probing his mind? Was it? Hopefully it was. He was much too distracted to see if she was actually reading his thoughts. His wounds were already healed.

Logan leapt to the fore of the sparse battle formation. The claws came out in an instant with a metallic ring. Inadvertently, some of the men took a step back, much to Logan's satisfaction; they might have the bigger guns, but at the end of the day, his claws could still deflect their bullets. "You wanna shoot me?" he roared. "So shoot me!"

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I do love that line from X-2. It pretty much summed up Logan's character for me. And I hope I got Eric right. He's a very difficult character to capture.


	10. Ad Victoriam

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 10: Ad Victoriam**

Logan stared at each of the soldiers in turn. Well, just the six at the front. He didn't have time to give them all individual looks. He could feel the others staring at the back of his head. They were probably wondering if he was mad, or what he was, or both. He didn't particularly care at the moment. The Wolverine snarled. It was a guttural sound that came from deep down in his throat; an inhuman sound. The beast within him was straining against the constraints he had erected around it. If he had enough hair on the back of his neck, it would be bristling.

He didn't wait for them to shoot him; the idea just wasn't that appealing. He lunged first, going for the guns. It was inevitable, however, that they fired at him before he could disarm them. The first bullets hit him in the chest. He almost staggered backwards as the pain struck him. He could hear Marie screaming his name and taste blood at the back of his throat. And no, it didn't taste different from any other blood, despite what those vamps were saying. He ignored the pain. The claws came down, slicing the gun closest to him in half. The claws of his other hand pierced through Kevlar and silver chainmail. Frothy blood bubbled from the man's mouth, staining his chin red. Logan yanked out his claws with a grunt and before the corpse had even fallen, he had launched himself at his next opponent.

The vampires had not been idle. Logan had been the first to launch an offensive, but they had quickly followed. Obviously, they shared the belief that the best defence was an offence. They moved so quickly that they were no more than blurs. He only saw them when they stopped to attack, or perhaps were attacked in turn. The air was filled with bloody mist. The cloying smell almost overwhelmed him, but Logan was a veteran of some of the greatest wars the world had ever seen, even if he didn't remember much of what had happened. It took more than just a little blood —all right; a lot— to sicken him.

It seemed to him that he was seeing everything through a red haze. Human blood, vampire blood, mutant blood; it didn't look all that different when spilled.

* * *

The man had a stake in his hand, and he was getting ready to drive it into the vampire's heart from behind. Marie knew she had to do _something_, although she wasn't sure what. Her mind didn't seem to be working properly. All she wanted to do was either scream or whimper. Where the hell was Mystique? Sookie had called her and she had said she was coming, but _when_? At times like these, she wished she were more like the metamorph, or even the outgoing Jubilee, who got into trouble as often as she got out of it. No, no. Now was not the time for analytical thinking, which was her strength. Now was time for impulsive actions and improvisation! She reached out. Her hand came into contact with one half of a ceramic ash tray. Taking aim, she threw it at the soldier.

The projectile flew in an arc. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as it moved through the air and hit the man on the back of his head which was, unfortunately, protected by a helmet. Otherwise, she would have at least concussed him. It was a pretty good throw, though, even if she had to say so herself. The man swore and whipped around. That was all the time the vampire king of Texas needed to finish off the human he was dealing with and then snap the neck of the man whom Marie had hit with the broken ash tray.

Although it had been a good thing that she had prevented someone from staking the vampire king, there were always downsides to everything. In this case, she'd drawn a lot of attention to herself, and unlike Logan or the vampires, she couldn't exactly deal with it. In other words, she was pretty much an easy target. Three men lunged at her at once. What they meant to do with her once they got her, she didn't know. Perhaps they meant to use her as a hostage or something, although she was pretty sure that apart from Logan and Sookie, and maybe Bill, no one else would give a damn if she ended up being killed. She knew her worth, and it wasn't all that much.

In her panic, she had forgotten to include two things in her calculations. One, Sookie was not the sort of girl to sit back and do nothing whilst the men folk fought, and two, whilst vampires might not have much regard for human life, they saw attacks on what they considered to be 'their' humans as being personal attacks, and they were too proud not to do something about it. And there was the fact that Logan was very protective of her.

Three things happened at once. Sookie had grabbed a machine gun from one of the dead soldiers and braced herself against the remainder of a wall. Now she pulled the trigger and screamed. Her shots were completely off, but they served as a source of distraction for everyone because she really could have hit anybody. In fact, if Bill hadn't quickly grabbed his opponent and used him as a shield, he would have been struck by one of the stray bullets. A body flew through the air and into one of the men who had been converging on Marie, knocking him off his feet and before his companions could recover from the shock, one of them had been thrown through the window whilst Eric grabbed the other, lifted him high in the air and snapped the man's spine over his knee.

There was no time to be shocked. More men were coming in, more determined than ever to put an end to this nest of vampires. Marie pulled off her gloves. Her 'ability' might be a curse most of the time, but in situations like these, it could prove to be the difference between life and death. Taking Sookie's actions as an example, she looked around for a weapon —probably not a machine gun, as she didn't know how to use one of those and would probably end up smacking herself in the face if she tried, but surely someone had to have a revolver somewhere. She ducked as there was another burst of machine gun fire. Then again, maybe it would be a better idea to steal some dead guy's Kevlar and helmet first before she went and found a revolver.

* * *

Attagirl! Logan grinned as he caught sight of Marie putting on a Kevlar vest that was much too large for her in the periphery of his vision. She'd learned well. One unfortunate man got the Wolverine's claws embedded in his skull. Logan yanked out the lengths of metal, ignoring the bloody semi-solid pale substance and the bone splinters adhering to said semi-solid substance. He'd clean his claws later before retracting them. It wasn't exactly ideal to have someone else's brain matter inside his body, even if his immune system could deal with it.

Bill had somehow acquired gloves —he'd probably pulled them off a dead body. They were learning too, it seemed. The vampires, that was, not the dead bodies. Although, come to think of it, vampires _were_ technically dead bodies, albeit moving ones...he was confusing himself. He knew it had been a mistake to start thinking about such complex things. He functioned best when he didn't think.

How many soldiers were there anyway? They seemed to have been doing this for a very long time. Speaking of which, shouldn't the authorities be here by now? There had been, after all, an explosion, and now there was a gunfight. The police ought to be intervening. Where were they? This wasn't a Hollywood movie where the police never turned up to anything of importance. Did they simply not care because it was a vampire's home?

* * *

Marie fired off six shots in succession. Some of them missed, although most of them hit, and then, the gun in her hand made clicking noises that signalled an empty barrel. She cursed and threw it down. There wasn't another one to be found, at least not at such short notice. Everyone else was occupied; she was on her own. The man was running towards her. There were only a few feet between them. The girl reached up and grabbed the man's face, the only place where the skin was exposed. The rest of him was covered with armour. She felt his life flowing through her fingers and into her as her skin touched his. It was empowering and frightening. She felt his hate for vampires, mutants, homosexuals, Muslims, Catholics, atheists, Buddhists, and anyone else who was different from him and his kind.

She pulled her hand back just as he lost consciousness. He would live, she supposed, if the vampires didn't finish him off. Maybe she ought to feel sorrier than she was, but after the emotions she had felt coming off him, she wasn't in the mood for pity. She looked up and met the gaze of the King of Texas. The vampire had blood dripping from his chin. More blood soaked his fabulously geeky argyle sweater and his hair was also stained with blood. He had seen everything she had done. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. She could worry about his interest in her later. Right now, she was more interested in keeping alive. She dropped to the ground as someone aimed for her and rolled, wishing that she was wearing pants instead of a tight-fitting skirt. It would have been so much easier to fight in pants than in a skirt. At least with pants, she wouldn't have to worry about flashing everyone. Yes, she knew it was silly to think about such trivial things when she could be killed any moment and yes, she still cared.

* * *

Bill heard the sound of jet engines. How did the metamorph know that they needed rescuing? When he thought about it, this was the second time that he had been rescued in two days, and he'd been rescued by mortals. It really didn't look all that good on his record. Then again, it would look even worse on the Sheriff's record. At least Bill could use his relative youth as a vampire as an excuse. What excuse did Eric have, except for exceptional bad luck?

"Finally!" shouted Logan, who had never been one to not voice his thoughts. When did he get to call for reinforcements? Then it dawned on him that Sookie must have heard the mutant's thoughts. The vampire crushed a man's windpipe with his gloved hands. There were too many armed humans to fight, and the presence of this much silver had weakened him and his fellow vampires significantly. It was best to get the hell out of here. He saw no shame in running when it was the only way. He had run away enough times in the past.

* * *

There were soldiers blocking every exit. Marie swallowed. Hard. There were so many of them; they were like a thicket of machine guns and wooden stakes. Sure, most of them were wearing Kevlar vests by now, but armour could only do so much. She wished she still had Magneto's powers. Unfortunately, they'd worn off a couple of hours ago and Magneto himself was not here. It was ironic; she had never thought that she would want Magneto to be within two hundred feet of her.

"You might as well give up, children of Satan," called the group leader. "You can't win. God's might has no limit."

"Sorry to break it to you, bub, but I think these guys are made out of the same thing as your Jesus," said Logan. Oh God. What was he up to now? If he was trying for shock tactics, then he was more than likely to succeed. Some of the things that came out of Logan's mouth were indeed very shocking. "He rose from the dead, supposedly, and these guys rose from the dead, didn't they? Although, he could have been a zombie, coz zombies rise from the dead too, although they're technically not alive."

The soldiers gaped, some of the vampires gaped, and Marie was gaping, for certain. That was...unexpected, to say the least. Apparently, Logan knew it too, because he took that chance to leap at them with all six claws extended and pointing forwards. Bullets tore through him, but he seemed oblivious to them as he plunged his claws into the chests of two men simultaneously and the momentum of his charge knocked over six others. Before they could recover, he'd flung the bodies of their comrades at the rest of the Soldiers of the Sun and then seized one of the submachine guns.

However, it turned out he would have no need for the gun after all. The soldiers were suddenly lifted up into the air —and so was Logan, for that matter. Magneto was back. He floated in through the broken patio doors, with his cape billowing around him as if he was some kind of superhero. And this time, he was wearing his telepath-proof helmet. "This is the second time in two days," he said. "I am less than impressed."

Marie would have liked to say something, but given the fact that this was a pretty unimpressive record, even for trouble magnets like Logan and herself, there was nothing she could think of to say. At least, not at this particular moment in time. A rebuttal would probably come to her later, when it was too late to say anything.

* * *

The flight was tense. They were going to drop off Stan Davis and his crew at Houston before heading back to Shreveport. Mystique had suggested going to New York, but apparently, Texas and Louisiana were not on great terms with either the King of New York State or the Queen of New York City.

Marie found herself seated next to Davis. It had certainly been an accident on her part, but she didn't know about him. He seemed to be interested in talking to her, although Logan's presence —in the seat right behind her— made him a little more cautious. That, and Eric was looking as if he was going to kill someone if the other vampire dared to make a suspicious move, and Bill looked like as if he was going to back his Sheriff up if he needed to, which was a change, since the two made their mutual dislike for one another no secret. Actually, that made her even more uncomfortable. She'd never been fought over before, much less by a bunch of people who were probably older than her great-grandparents and a hell of a lot more powerful. She didn't like it at all.

She glanced around. Magneto was smirking, as he tended to do. She didn't like the way he was looking at her either. It seemed as if he was waiting for something to happen; something that would make him very happy. Whatever made Magneto happy usually didn't make Marie very happy.

"That is quite a rare talent you have, Miss D'Ancanto," said Davis suddenly. Marie jerked as if she had been struck. What was she supposed to say to that? That she hated her powers and wished she could be normal? That the 'kiss of death' had a very literal meaning for her? Did she even want to talk to this vampire who she'd met only a few hours ago and who scared her thoroughly? Unlike Eric, who was dangerous and looked it, and Bill, who wasn't as dangerous as Eric and looked it, Stan Davis seemed so...mild, even with the bloodstains on his face and argyle sweater. Yet, he was a king. Behind those unassuming thick glasses was a pair of unfathomable pale eyes that seemed to see everything. He might not look it, but here was a truly dangerous vampire and he seemed to have some ulterior motive in talking to her.

Davis seemed to be waiting for her to answer, but when she didn't answer, he continued. "I understand that you are afraid," he said, "and you have every right to be afraid. This is a dangerous world, and there will be people who will want to exploit you because of your powers—"

"That ain't gonna happen while I'm around," growled Logan. The sound of his voice made Marie feel just a bit better.

"You are only human, Mr. Howlett," said Davis, "Albeit one with claws. Now that Miss D'Ancanto has entered the world of vampires, she needs protection from vampires by vampires. I do not know if you have considered it, but I am a king, and my influence is vast—" Here, he was cut off again, but this time, not by Logan.

"She works for me," said Eric in a coarse whisper. It was not quite a growl, but close enough.

"I was talking to the humans, Mr. Erikson," said Davis, completely unperturbed. Marie supposed he had no reason to be afraid; he was a king, after all, and even though his nest had been severely diminished by the attack, he still had more than enough vampires in his retinue to take on Eric, who only had Bill and Logan to back him up. "I do not appreciate your interruption."

"And I don't appreciate you poaching my mutants," said Eric.

"I was not aware that they had any prior links to you, Mr. Erikson," said Davis. "From what I know, they were working for a Sheriff in Louisiana." Did he suspect Eric's identity now? Was he simply playing along to get that theory confirmed? Marie was aware that she and Logan, and the others, were now caught up in a political struggle. Davis wanted to use them; Eric didn't want Davis to use them because _he_ wanted to use them.

"And they still are working for that Sheriff," said Eric.

"So you lied to me, Mr. Northman," said the king. "Frankly, I am quite offended."

"You would have done the same thing in my place," said Eric. As an afterthought, he added, "Your majesty."

"I probably would have," Davis concurred. "But, seeing as you have abused my hospitality, I believe I am entitled to some compensation, surely?" He smiled, extending his fangs as he did so.

Eric extended his own fangs, answering the challenge. Marie was reminded by a display of power between two mountain lions before they engaged in battle. Who was the bigger lion here?

Davis laughed and retracted his fangs. "Now," he said. "Don't be like that, Northman. You are in my territory, after all, and I could easily have your fangs. However, I think we should be able to come to some sort of...resolution." He sat back, completely at ease with himself. "I'll take the girl. You can have the rest."

Marie finally found her voice. "I am not up for sale!" she declared. At the same time, Logan extended his claws and snarled. He didn't need words with proper syllables to express his opinion of the king's suggestion.

"Out of the question," said Eric. "She is my human."

His? What did he mean, _his_? She certainly did not belong to Eric Northman and she was about to say so when he caught her eye. The warning look he gave her was enough to make her shut her mouth for the moment.

"Is she now?" asked Davis, looking amused. "You seem to have gotten quite a head start with this mutant business, Northman."

"And, based on that, I know I'm definitely not gonna be workin' for you," said Logan. "I ain't no one's business but my own."

"You are an incredibly cheeky human," said Davis, turning to the Wolverine for the first time. "I could just rip your head off right now."

"And I could cut yours off in a jiffy," replied the Wolverine. They might actually have tried to carry out their threats if Mystique's voice hadn't suddenly sounded over the intercom.

"No fighting on my jet," she said, "unless you want to go up in a ball of flames when I crash it. Mr. Davis, we are in Houston. I suggest you get the fuck out before I do something drastic. You get on my nerves."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm trying to name each chapter after a song I know, so there will be some rather odd chapter names coming up. You have been warned. Anyway, hope I got the characters right. Vampires are hard to write.


	11. Worlds Collide

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize; it all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 11: Worlds Collide**

Logan pulled Eric aside as soon as Stan Davis and his retinue had disembarked. "Listen, bub," he said. "I don't appreciate you claimin' that we belong to you, coz we don't, got it?" Sookie held her breath, wondering what the Sheriff would do. From what she knew, Eric did not tolerate this sort of disrespect, although, strangely enough, he brushed it off when she was the one who disrespected him. There was a niggling suspicion at the back of her mind that he was giving her preferential treatment, and she was quite sure that it wasn't just her telepathic ability that was making him treat her thus.

Eric, to his credit, did not lose his temper, although he did forcefully remove Logan's hands from the front of his completely ruined shirt. "I had no other choice," he said. "He would have tried to claim you, otherwise, and I certainly did not want that, although..." Here, he paused and smirked. "I would have liked to see how Davis would have dealt with you." That was directed specifically at Logan.

"I would have cut his head off, like I said I would," said Logan. "It's very simple, really."

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, have you?" asked Eric, shaking his head. He wasn't sure, but he felt he liked having a completely clueless nephilim as an ally, or rather, a potential ally. It made him so much easier to control. Of course, other troubles were sure to arise in the future. Howlett had made it very clear the only predictable thing about him was unpredictability and the smell of cheap cigar smoke.

The intercom crackled to life again. "Logan!" called Mystique. "Storm's on. She wants to talk to you."

Storm? He hadn't heard that name before. Was she another mutant? Either way, any acquaintance of the nephilim was of interest to him. Who knew what sort of networks the man had? Perhaps he was linked to things that Eric hadn't even heard of before. Howlett unstrapped himself and went into the cockpit, shutting the door behind him. The door was soundproof, supposedly, but he could hear the Wolverine's colourful swearing and the words 'Italy' and 'American Consulate', and he was intrigued. Europe might have taken the Great Revelation with much less apparent grace than the then liberal government of the United States, but vampires were still powerful there. After all, most of the elders had been born in the Old World as opposed to the New. Some of them had refused to leave their ancestral homelands and their well-established underground powerbases in search of fresher pastures. As far as he knew, they were doing as well as ever. Complicated European politics meant that the governments had a lot to distract them from the issue of vampires.

When Howlett re-emerged, Eric could sense the anger and frustration rolling off him in waves. Did it have anything to do with the blood he had consumed? At any rate, even if he had not been able to feel it, he would have been able to see it. The nephilim was no expert when it came to hiding his emotions.

"Storm and the others are being denied their right to exit the country because their damn papers and considered to be fucking legitimate anymore," growled Howlett. His words were meant for Marie, obviously, but he hadn't bothered to hide them from anyone. Perhaps he thought that it wasn't worth keeping secret.

"So what's going to happen?" asked Marie.

"I dunno," said Howlett. He sat down again in his seat, rubbing both his temples. "Hank's tried contacting the Consulate, apparently, but they're brushin' him off as well. They're not even botherin' to process the new papers. Probably think it's best if they can keep mutants out of their own damn country that they were born in."

Eric would have liked to know more about this problem that some of Howlett and Marie's acquaintances were having in Europe; it wasn't that he was feeling particularly altruistic, but he was interested in lending a helping hand, if only to convince these mutants that he was the one vampire who would treat them decently. He needed to win them over. His brother had always believed in diplomacy over violence and terror; it appeared that he had been right, considering he was now nigh untouchable by every other vampire. Even the Magister treated him at least respectfully. The Viking didn't see why he couldn't try the same thing with these humans with powers.

* * *

The plane landed just outside of Shreveport at three in the morning. It was a very fast jet. Eric wouldn't have minded having one of those at his disposal. Unfortunately, his income, although substantial, did not allow him to afford such luxuries. "Will you make it back to Bon Temps on time, Compton?" he asked. It was only polite, and while courtesy usually wasn't a virtue of his, he felt that it was necessary after everything that had happened tonight. Besides, he needed Compton's loyalty if his plan was going to work out. The last thing he needed was for that vampire to leak the news that Howlett was one of the nephilim.

"We will if you would be so kind to lend us a car," said Bill reluctantly. Eric smirked. He knew how much Compton disliked having to ask him for favours. It stung the former confederate soldier's pride.

"One will be made available to you," he said. He turned to the haggard looking humans, noting how tired they seemed. There was something to be said about being 'undead'; enough blood in a vampire's system always made him feel better, whereas humans needed sleep, and food and medicine, sometimes, to recover. "I will be seeing you again very soon."

"Why?" asked Howlett.

"Because you want an alliance with vampires, and if one is to be made, then people of higher rank than I must be involved, and in this case, it means the Queen of Louisiana, my liege. You've just insulted the King of Texas, Mutant; you need the friendship of other royals if you want to work with us."

* * *

Logan parked the borrowed car in Sookie's driveway. Mystique had elected to fly back to New York with Magneto, saying that the mansion should not be left alone for too long. They had more forces to mobilize. If they were to have an alliance with the vampires, then they would at least match them in numbers, or try to. It would not be an uneven alliance, where on side relied entirely on the other, and mutants, in this case, would need to get organized. The Wolverine himself was going to return the next day. Since he'd been the one who had suggested this alliance, it was only fair that he did some of the work to make it happen.

It was good to be home. Everything had become a bit dusty in their absence, but otherwise, the house had remained untouched, which was exactly the way they had wanted to find it. The remainder of the night passed uneventfully, which was a welcome change from the turbulence of the past few nights. By the time Marie woke, it was noon, and she was starving. The scent of bacon wafted from the kitchen. Slipping on a thin robe and reminding herself that she needed to get new gloves, she padded out to the kitchen. Logan was sitting there, drinking his coffee and reading the sports section of the paper. "Hey, kid," he said when he saw her.

"I thought you'd have left," she said as she went to pour herself a glass of orange juice.

"Can't wait to see the last of me, can you?" asked the Wolverine, raising his eyebrow mischievously.

"I do tend to get into more trouble with you around, and you can't deny it," said Marie. "Do you really have to be the mutant representative? Can't Dr. McCoy do it?"

"I thought they'd have him be the representative, to be honest, but you heard Northman," said Logan. "I think he's got somethin' up his sleeve, but we gotta rely on him to get the other vampires to even listen to us. He's a real piece of work, that one, even for a bloodsucker."

"No worse than Stan Davis," said Marie. She took a sip of her juice. "Where's Sookie?"

"She went out to get some groceries," said Logan. "Listen, kid; you sure you don't wanna come back to New York with me?"

"I'm not _sure_ I don't want to go back with you, Logan, but I think I still need some more time just to figure things out," said Marie. "It's been a hectic few days and I really didn't get much thinking done."

"I don't like the idea of leavin' you here all by yourself," said Logan.

"I'm not completely alone," said Marie. "I've got my cousin, and Bill lives next door."

"And Northman is just three hours' drive away," said the Wolverine. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"I don't either," said Marie, "but he can't touch me."

"I guess the cloud does have a silver lining, eh?"

"I guess so," said Marie.

"Do you need anythin'? Money?"

"Thanks, but I'm good, Logan," said Marie with a smile. He was always trying to look after her, as if he were her guardian angel. "Although, perhaps you could send me some of my stuff once you get back?"

* * *

Marie had been looking forward to a normal day. It was one of her nights off, although Sookie had to return to work. She had planned on lounging around and doing nothing in particular, perhaps watch a movie or something. Her cousin really needed a DVD player; some of the new movies that she wanted to see simply didn't come out in VCR form anymore. She popped in the _Phantom of the Opera._ Logan liked to sing along to the Phantom's parts when he thought no one was listening. He had a good voice; even better than the actor who played the Phantom. She smiled as she remembered how she and the other girls had giggled —and some of them had almost swooned— when they'd heard him sing. The Wolverine liked Broadway. There was no other way to put it. He wanted people to think that the only thing he watched were sports, but he had a secret love of musicals. Granted, his favourite was _Sweeney Todd_, a musical about cutting people's throats, mincing the corpses and making them into pies, and he also liked _Phantom_ because it had a sadistic murdering torturer in it to spice things up, but still.

She was just humming along to one of the songs when there was a knock on the door. She glanced out the window. Sunlight was peeping in through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the motes of dust floating in the air. Uncurling her legs from beneath her, she went to the front door. A man was standing on the porch, looking distinctly annoyed and aghast. He was in a pinstripe suit, which seemed to be an odd choice of attire given the warm weather lately. She opened the door cautiously. His hands were bare, so even if he tried to hurt her, he wouldn't have been able to. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Miss D'Ancanto?" asked the man.

"Yes," said the girl slowly. How did he know who she was?

"I was asked to give this to you," he said, holding out a flat rectangular box. There was a gold ribbon tied around it, and she could see that someone had slipped an envelope beneath the ribbon.

"Thank you," she said. Who would send her such a fancily wrapped gift? She thought about asking the messenger, but he was already back in his car. Well, that was rude. The box was light. She set it down on the coffee table, muted the television and opened the envelope. There was no greeting card, just a simple note folded in half, written in a strong elegant script that harkened back to a bygone age. People didn't write like that anymore. She found herself admiring the handwriting before she realized that she was really supposed to read the note. There was just one line.

_You do not want to be killing anyone again so soon._

What the hell? Who wrote that as a note accompanying a gift? She untied the ribbon and lifted the lid —with 'Dior' printed on the top— off the box. Inside was a pair of elbow length gloves of forest green; her favourite colour. They were satin—not the cheap polyester satin that most chain-stores sold, but satin woven from silk. And they fit her like a second skin. She had never owned such a beautiful pair of gloves before, and she had no idea who could have sent it. It wasn't Logan, because he wouldn't know Dior from 'door', and he would never have written something like that on a note to her. It couldn't have been Sookie —her cousin was surviving on a barmaid's salary and bonuses from Eric— and no one else had any reason to give her anything.

One part of her mind told her that she ought not to wear them until she figured out their providence, but the more practical side took over. They were gloves, and unless they could poison her the way a poisoned comb did Snow White —highly unlikely— there was no harm in wearing them. Besides, she needed the gloves, which gave her much better coverage than the riding gloves that she'd gotten from the shops. Whoever had written the note had been right. She didn't want to kill anyone anytime soon.

She pondered the note further, tracing a fingertip over the beautiful writing. Who had written it? Would Sookie know? She decided to ask her cousin when she came back from her shift; that was, if she didn't go over to Bill's. The couple hadn't been able to have much time to themselves lately, and if she were in Sookie's place, she would have wanted to make up for it.

The world slipped into the gentle darkness of evening. Instead of making dinner, Marie opted for chips and cookies and all sorts of other sinful snacks that were full of processed sugars, artificial flavouring, sodium and saturated fat. After everything that had happened, she was allowed to indulge herself. She'd taken off her gloves since she didn't want to dirty them with grease and salt and sugar. She was licking her fingers clean of cheese flavoured powder from her Doritos when someone rapped on the door sharply. She wiped her hands and left them bare; she would put the gloves back on after she'd washed off the grease properly. As long as she didn't touch anyone, nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

She peeked through the curtains. A tall blond figure was standing on the porch, illuminated by the dim light from the sliver of moon hanging in the sky. What was Eric Northman doing here? Cautiously, she opened the door. Vampires couldn't enter unless invited in, so at least she was safe whilst she was in the house. And no one could actually physically touch her skin without getting hurt. At the moment, that was a bonus.

"Miss D'Ancanto," said the vampire with his characteristic smug smirk. What, no more 'little Marie'?

"What are you doing here?" asked Marie. "Sookie's at work."

"Just as well I wasn't looking for her," said Eric. "Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to come out to sit on the porch with me? Either way, it is awfully awkward to talk when you look as if you're going to slam the door in my face at any moment." Marie didn't move. Eric shook his head. "Like I said before, you don't have to be afraid of me yet, little Marie. At present, I have no intention of hurting you. You are too...valuable, shall we say, and frankly, I am curious. Now, are we simply going to stand here all night?"

"Sookie said vampires could hypnotize humans to make them do things that they wouldn't normally do," said Marie.

"That is correct, although I am not doing it to you now, am I?" asked Eric. "Trust me. If I had wanted to hurt you, it wouldn't be difficult for me." Marie considered this. He was right, she supposed, and since they were supposed to be negotiating an alliance between their two races, she really ought to be polite to him.

"Come in," she said reluctantly. Eric stepped over the threshold. "I'll just go wash my hands first." She took her time in soaping her hands and rinsing them off under the mildly cold water. Her thoughts churned furiously inside her head. What did Eric want? If he wanted to talk about the alliance, then he really ought to be talking to Dr. McCoy, or Mystique, or even Logan. She was just a nineteen-year-old who'd somehow been dragged into this. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found the vampire sitting comfortably on one of the faded sofas, with his long denim-clad legs stretched out before him. Without speaking, she slid on the satin gloves that she'd carefully draped over the back of a chair.

"I see you received my gift," said Eric, watching her as she put on her gloves. She stopped. He didn't seem to care, and he continued. "They suit you."

"You gave me these?" she asked. "Why?"

"Consider them a token of goodwill," said the vampire. He sat up and leaned forward. "And also as...as thanks for what you did in Dallas. I am...grateful."

"You've already paid us for that," said Marie.

"I paid Sookie and your friend. I didn't pay you," said Eric. "At any rate, you are now officially my human —one of them— and you will know that I always treat my employees well."

"I thought that was just something you said to stop Stan Davis from getting me," she said.

"It was, but it also means that you officially belong to me now," said Eric. "Words simply do not cut it with vampires. We need to see action being taken. But this is not what I came to talk about."

"What did you come to talk about, then?" asked Marie. She would also liked to have asked how he knew that forest green was her favourite colour, and the size of her hands, but she refrained from doing so because that would make her seem much too interested. She would simply have to be satisfied by the idea that he was merely a very observant man.

"I came to make you an offer," said Eric.

"What sort of offer?" Marie narrowed her eyes. This did not bode well. Eric must have sensed what she was thinking, because he laughed.

"You don't need to be alarmed," he said. "It's a job opportunity, and yes, it is perfectly respectable work for a young lady."

"I have a job," said Marie.

"One that does not pay nearly enough, and it is certainly not well suited to someone with your talents," said Eric. "If you agree to work for me, you will be paid a decent salary, with bonuses."

"And what exactly do you want me to do?" asked Marie.

"I need someone to man the souvenir booth," said Eric. "Someone who won't bite customers, kick them, or otherwise discourage them from spending inordinate amounts of money on whatever merchandise we happen to offer, but to also make sure no one makes off with things that they have not paid for."

"And you thought of me?"

"The usual cashier doesn't want to work at a place like Fangtasia, and the usual fangbanger is often too distracted to take much notice of the merchandise, unless they're the ones taking it," said Eric. "You seem like an intelligent young woman, Marie D'Ancanto. Why shouldn't I have thought of you?"

"That is all I'll have to do?" asked the girl. It seemed too good to be true. Yes, she needed the money; she felt guilty about not paying her for her food and board whilst staying at Sookie's. Her cousin wasn't well off and she was well aware of that, despite what Sookie might say. She wanted to help out; perhaps pay the electrical bills or the phone bills or get internet connection for the house or even just get her a DVD player. Eric's offer was sounding very attractive. "You're going to hire me to watch your souvenir booth and that's it?"

"Well, I need someone to help me run my antivirus program," said the vampire.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry there wasn't much action going on in this chapter. I'll go back to it soon enough. I will also be talking about vampires in Europe and Asia in the future, because I am obsessed with those two continents as well as medieval history. Watch out for crusader vampires in bulk!


	12. League of Darkness

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize; it all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 12: League of Darkness**

Bill was awfully quiet tonight, and Sookie was wondering why. Although one of the main attractions of being with a vampire, at least for her, was the fact that she couldn't read his mind, she sometimes wished that she could. Her vampire wasn't exactly the most talkative of people. In fact, he was downright bad when it came to expressing himself and telling her things that he really ought to tell her. She supposed it was one of the things in their relationship that they needed to work on. She snuggled up closer to him, closing her eyes as she leaned against his chest. He was so still; no heartbeat, no breathing. His arms were wrapped around her, making her feel safe.

"Eric called me earlier today," he suddenly said.

"Do we have to talk about Eric?" asked Sookie, opening one eye. She was in no mood for whatever business the Sheriff had at the moment. The bar had been extremely busy tonight, and she really just wanted to cuddle. Damn vampire politics. Like sand, it got into everything, and there never seemed to be an end to all the conflicts. All in all, it was very similar to human politics. Perhaps that was the one aspect of humanity that the vampires all clung to.

"He has arranged a meeting with the queen in two weeks," said Bill. "He wants you to go with him, and I am to accompany you, of course."

"Um...Bill?" said Sookie. "I just took three days off work. It doesn't seem right to take off again so soon."

"But you did agree to work for Eric if the humans involved didn't get killed," said Bill. "He has honoured his side of the bargain, so you must also honour yours." He sighed. "Even if he didn't honour his side, you would still have to honour yours. He is the Sheriff."

"Oh, I hate vampire politics," said Sookie, reaching up to kiss him on his cool lips. She had intended for it to be a small affectionate kiss, but it evolved from there. Somehow, with methods that completely eluded her, they managed to find their way into Bill's bed.

* * *

After Eric had left —and he hadn't stayed for long, much to Marie's relief— she immediately called Logan. She needed his advice. All right, so maybe he wasn't particularly good at giving other people advice, since he didn't have a clue what he himself was doing half the time, but he did have good instincts and he'd always been there for her. She really just needed to talk things through with someone she trusted, that was all. He picked up after the first ring.

"Hey kid," he said. "Is anythin' wrong?"

"Does something need to be wrong for me to call you?" she asked.

"Well, no, but you usually don't call at eleven thirty at night," he responded. "So what's goin' on? Has someone been botherin' you?"

"No one's been bothering me, per se, and nothing is really wrong," said Marie. "It's just that Eric Northman came by, and he offered me a job as a cashier for his souvenir booth."

"That was quick," said Logan, startling Marie. "Oh...um...yeah. He called me before and told me he was goin' to do that, an' Furball thought it was a good idea to show our potential allies that we trust 'em, so I thought there wouldn't be anythin' wrong with you workin' for him as long as you agreed to it."

"I haven't agreed yet, Logan," said Marie. "And I don't want to be some political pawn."

"I told Furball that," said Logan, "but Northman said he could protect you better if you were closer to Shreveport, an' seein' as you can be very powerful —don't deny it, kid; you haven't taken over the world because you're not interested, not because you don't have that potential— there will be other vampires who'll want you for themselves."

"Bill lives within a five minute walk from here," said Marie. "He can probably make sure nothing happens to me."

"Yeah, but I don't even know if he has a rank. Northman's a sheriff, and he _knows_ I'll do my damndest best to cut his head off if anythin' happens to you, and I'm very likely to succeed—wait, hang on. What the hell? Storm's back! Listen, kid, I gotta go, but if you really don't want to do it, just say it, 'kay? I ain't gonna force you to do anythin' you don't wanna do."

"All right, Logan," said Marie. So long as she still had a choice, she supposed she could accept the fact that they had gone behind her back a little, although she probably would not do it a second time. "Give my love to Storm and the others, 'kay?"

"You bet, kid. Oh, by the way, I sent you your stuff. Didn't know what you'd be needin' so I packed all of it." Marie raised an eyebrow. That was going to be one huge delivery. "I'll be seein' you soon." He hung up, and Marie ended the call. The job at Fangtasia did sound better than her current job at Merlotte's she supposed, although Eric made her want to run sometimes. He was the top predator in the food chain, and she was food, although dangerous food. Was she worrying too much? After all, Eric did want the mutants on his side, and draining her would not exactly make them like him more. And he'd had ever chance in the world to hurt her, only he hadn't. Why would he start now?

She sighed. No, she was going to need other points of view. Marie glanced at the clock, wondering when Sookie would come home.

* * *

Sookie crept in as Marie was making breakfast. The younger girl turned, spatula in hand. "Well?" she said.

"I'm sorry, Marie," said Sookie sheepishly. She was about to apologize further when she saw that her cousin was smirking.

"I take that he's good?" said Marie. Sookie looked around for something to throw at her and settled on a dish towel. The other girl caught it before it landed in the frying bacon.

"He's good," said Sookie, "although I've nothing to compare him to." She sighed, knowing that she sounded a bit like a saccharine heroine from some old black and white movie. "I don't think I'll want to compare him to anyone."

"Uh huh," said Marie. "Listen...Eric came last night—"

"You didn't invite him in, did you?" asked Sookie, cutting her cousin off in the middle of her sentence.

"Um...I kinda did," said Marie. Now it was her turn to be sheepish. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about. He offered me a job at Fangtasia."

"He _what_? Marie, you didn't agree, did you?"

"No! I had to think about it first, and I called Logan, who thought it should be okay since Eric knows that he's gonna come down and cut his head off if anything happens to me —and Eric asked him before he asked me, which is completely insulting, by the way— and now I want to know what you think about it."

"Why would he want you to work at Fangtasia? Did he say?"

"He didn't, but I'm sure he has less than altruistic motives," said Marie. "He did say that he thought I was too good for waitressing at Merlotte's."

"You are," said Sookie, "but is being a cashier in Fangtasia any better?"

"I suppose I could get more hours, and maybe broaden my network," said Marie dubiously. "You know I want to help out if I'm going to stay here, Sookie."

"Hey, you're family," said the telepath. "Family look out for one another, or they're supposed to." She glanced at Marie. "Well, not all of them do it, I guess."

"Exactly," said Marie, "and I'm living here without even helping you to pay for the electricity, and that's not right."

"You helped me with the plumbing fee last time," Sookie pointed out.

"That was a one time thing," said Marie. "I want to contribute regularly while I'm living here. I'm not a parasite."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie," said Sookie. "I'm sure you'll be able to make up for it someday. Right now, I'm just glad that you're here. It can get a bit lonely sometimes and it's nice to have someone to talk to."

"But _I_ don't feel right," said Marie. She tipped the bacon onto two plates and then started on the eggs. They took about a minute to cook, and she put those on the plates too. Sookie poured two glasses of orange juice and popped the bread in the toaster.

"Why do I get the feeling that you want to take the job?" asked Sookie.

"Does it have anything to do with you being able to read minds?" asked Marie.

"Sometimes I can't help it," said the other woman defensively.

"I don't mind so much," said Marie with a shrug. "Believe me, I'm used to people who can read thoughts. I lived with two of the most powerful telepaths in the world for a time."

"What happened?"

"They both died."

"Natural deaths?"

"No, not at all."

"That's...encouraging."

"They were much more powerful than you are, Sookie. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Now I'm just insulted."

* * *

Marie called Fangtasia that night, after having gotten the number from Sookie. As she listened to the electronic rings, she wondered about what to expect, now that she was actually _working_ for Eric Northman. Finally, someone picked up. "Fangtasia, the bar with a bite," said a very bored woman on the other end.

"Hello, I'm looking for Mr. North—"

"The master does not take calls from vermin," said the woman on the other end. The call ended with a click, and then there was a dial tone. Marie stared at her phone, wondering how on earth Fangtasia still had patrons if the staff were so hospitable. Unperturbed, she redialled.

The same woman answered the phone. "Fangtasia, the—"

"Mr. Northman will be very displeased if you don't let me speak with him," said Marie. Her heart was hammering inside her chest, hoping that she wasn't assuming too much. Eric obviously wanted her to work for him, to the point of coming down to Bon Temps and offering her a job himself, but would he actually want to talk to her on the phone? The woman hesitated. "We're business acquaintances," said Marie. Well, that was true enough. Her best friend was negotiating an alliance between mutants and vampires, or at least making up part of the delegation that was going down to New Orleans to meet with Eric's queen, and she and Eric did have a strictly professional relationship.

"Wait a moment," said the woman. She heard music in the background, and the sound of the woman's heels on vinyl. A few moments later, she was speaking to someone, presumably the vampire that Marie wanted to talk to. She called him 'master'.

"Northman," said the familiar voice.

"It's Marie D'Ancanto," she said, feeling a little nervous.

"Miss D'Ancanto," said the vampire, sounding amused. Hell, did he ever not sound amused and completely sexy? Wait, did she just think that? She made a face at herself; this was pathetic. "Have you considered my proposal?"

"I have," she said, "and I'm taking the job."

"Excellent," said Eric. She couldn't tell if he was genuinely pleased of whether he getting bored and trying to pretend to sound pleased. Well, if it was the latter, at least he was making an effort to be semi-polite. She had to give him credit for that. "I will send my daytime man over with a contract and the dress code. Do you have any questions?"

"I don't think so..." she said.

"Good," he said, and then he hung up. Just like that. Maybe the staff at Fangtasia got their rudeness from him.

* * *

It was just as well that Logan's care package arrived the next morning. He must have paid a fortune to have it delivered so quickly. In true Logan form, he'd stuffed everything into the boxes without folding them, so most of her things were a little crumpled. In fact, the only thing that did not resemble and iceberg lettuce leaf was a brand new X-Men uniform. There was a note accompanying it. He'd thought that she might need it soon.

She was considered one of the X-Men. It made her want to grin. As much as she detested her mutation, being one of the X-Men was an honour, and something to be very grateful for. She tried on the uniform. It fit her perfectly. Hmm...maybe she ought to wear this to Fangtasia tonight. It was certainly tight enough to be considered 'sexy', but it offered the coverage she needed.

Eric's daytime man arrived just after noon to give her the contract and to drive her to the bar. It was the same unpleasant man who had delivered her gloves before. "Mr. Northman asked me if you required anything in regards to the dress code requirements," he said stiffly, as if it hurt him to be polite to her.

"I think I'm good, Mr..." she said to the man.

"Durnham," he said, as if he was announcing that he was actually James Bond. "Bobby Durnham."

"I'll be fine, Mr. Durnham," she said. "Do you want to come in?" She didn't actually want him to come in, but it was only polite to ask. "I believe there is some iced tea in the fridge."

"No, thank you," said Durnham. He was practically sneering, obviously thinking that she wasn't worthy of licking the dirt on the sole of his shoes. He was _so_ lucky that Logan hadn't been here to hear him; otherwise, the Wolverine would have ripped him a new arsehole with his bare hands.

"As you wish," said Marie in the fanciest accent she could muster. As she had been an extremely good drama student back at school, she could sound pretty fancy if she wanted to. Plus, she and her girlfriends had kinda practised channelling Blair Waldorf from _Gossip Girl_ for fun from time to time. Two could play this game. She was glad he had declined her offer. He could stay outside and roast in the searing afternoon sun whilst she took her sweet time in the shower. See how he liked that. Yes, she could be _very_ petty if she wanted. Of course, he could probably turn on the air conditioning in his car, but still, it wasn't comfortable to stay in a stationary vehicle for prolonged periods of time whilst doing nothing.

She spent twenty minutes in the shower, shampooing her hair, conditioning it, and also polishing her heels to make sure that no crusty dead skin remained. She'd painted her toenails red the night before. The dress code Durnham had given her had said that red and black were the only colours allowed, although accessories of other colours were allowed, if they suited the mood at the bar, which was tacky gothic, although she would _never_ say that to Eric's face. He probably knew it anyway; he seemed to be much classier than the decor of his club and if the gloves he had given her were any indication, he was a tasteful sort of guy, vampire...whatever. Did vampires still qualify as guys?

She dried her hair and used some mousse to help her style it into a fancy updo that she'd seen on a starlet at the Cannes Film Festival, leaving just a few bits, both white and brown, to frame her face. She decided not to wear her uniform after all, because it was just far too hot. Instead, she opted for a lacy black camisole, followed by a sheer black blouse with no sleeves, and leather pants, all chosen by Jubilee. As for shoes, she put on her favourite studded platform wedge heels. They were very high, which made her legs look as if they went on forever like a supermodel's, but the wedge-heel meant that she wouldn't be losing her balance every few minutes. As for gloves, she slipped on her green satin ones. They were dark enough to look black in the club, especially considering all the red lighting.

For a moment, she considered donning a black cape and going dressed up as a Nazgûl, and she giggled at the thought. No, she would have to refrain from treating it like Comic Con, not that she'd ever been to Comic Con.

She decided to call Logan before going off with Durnham to her new workplace for orientation. She needed to thank him for sending her things, and she also wanted to hear his voice, just to make her feel less nervous. Plus, the others were back, and she wanted to hear all about it.

He answered on the first ring, as usual. "You will not _believe_ what happened," he said. That was not a characteristic greeting.

"What happened?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Kinda, but I'm not gettin' my panties in a twist about it—I'm a boxers' kind of guy, by the way; I was just usin' the phrase."

"I didn't need to know, Logan," said Marie, being completely honest. "What happened?"

"Turns out Storm and the others were saved by the Sicilian Mafia," said Logan. "They found them and smuggled them out of Italy usin' forged papers and a private jet."

"Wow." There wasn't much else she could say to that. The Sicilian Mafia and a private jet? That sounded something out of a James Bond movie.

"And here's the best bit," said Logan. "It was Northman who alerted the Mafia and called in a favour."

Eric had ties to the Sicilian Mafia. Marie's stomach did flip-flops, and not in a good way. Did she _really_ want to work for this guy? He was involved with the _Mafia_, for God's sake! "Um..." she said.

"Yeah, it freaked me out a bit at first, but it could be useful, if he can mobilize such a huge criminal force," said Logan. "Everything's gettin' really murky now, kid, and we need allies. The Mafia might have debatable morals, but they've got numbers and money. If it comes down to war, and I hope it doesn't, we're gonna need those resources."

The girl felt faint. She needed to sit down. She needed chocolate. She was going to go work for someone who had ties with one of the largest criminal organizations in the world. Was she going to get roped in? Hell, she didn't want to get involved in criminal organizations, whether they be triads, the Mafia, or motorcycle gangs. It was all making her feel dizzy and nauseous. She concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. She counted to ten. This was politics. It was full of dirty secrets. Yes, she could deal with it; she had to.

"Kid?" said Logan. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Just a bit shocked."

"It is pretty shocking," said the Wolverine. "By the way, Pyro's returned, with a bunch of Magneto's old cronies." He spat out that last name as if it tasted bad.

"You have my sympathies, Logan," said Marie, teasing him. Logan was not the most socially adept person in the world, and if he hated someone, he had a hard time hiding it or even just behaving with cold courtesy. The Wolverine was all about being fierce; he was fierce in his loyalty and fierce in his hate.

"I'm feelin' sorry for myself too," said Logan. Well, he couldn't be feeling _too_ sorry for himself if he could still joke about it. "Hey, listen, I gotta go. You look after yourself, and if you need anythin' just call, all right? I might have my hands full, but I'll dump everythin' and go down there if you need me."

"Thanks, Logan," said Marie. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Without further ado, Marie threw the things she would need tonight into her utilitarian khaki messenger bag. It wasn't very vampy, but it was roomy, and since it was a cross-body satchel, she could use her hands if she needed to defend herself. It was best to be safe rather than sorry. There were a lot of questions that needed answers, and one person who could give them to her. She was simply worried that she wouldn't have the nerve to ask him.

* * *

**A/N: **I actually do have a song in my playlist called 'League of Darkness'. I think it's by Audiomachine. Obviously, with the introduction of the Sicilian Mafia, I'm turning some of my attention to international vampire politics, or at least trans-Atlantic vampire politics, and I'll be bringing in a few of my favourite historical characters. *Big grin.*


	13. Brother, My Brother

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 13: Brother, My Brother**

Durnham was a much slower driver than Eric, for which Marie was glad. High speed was not really her kind of thing. The Sheriff's 'daytime man' drove a black Honda with the word 'Fangtasia' stencilled on it in red. The seats were of leather, and there was a port for someone to plug in their iPod. The only car she'd seen that had looked that nice had been Cyclops' car. Of course, that was now Logan's car. The only thing the Wolverine and his former romantic rival had had in common, apart from their love for Jean, had been super-fast vehicles. Boys and their toys.

The sun was just beginning to set as they arrived at the nightclub. The human employees had already started arriving, to set up before their 'master' woke. She hadn't noticed it before, but Fangtasia was situated right next to a Toys 'r' Us, which was highly disturbing in a way, considering the sort of kinky things that went on inside the club. Just as well it did not share the same opening times as the toy store.

One of the other employees had opened the door by the time Marie and Durnham got out of the car. There were some whispers amongst the women —and they were mostly women. No prizes for guessing _why_ they had been attracted to the job. All right, so perhaps that was unfair. Maybe some of them did want a livelihood instead of a chance to...um...get to know the boss. They were wondering who she was, and some of them were giving her dirty looks. Marie nodded at them politely once she was inside.

Durnham gave her the briefest of tours, pointing out the bathrooms, the staff lockers where she could put a spare change of clothes, and, of course, the booth she would be looking after. Fangtasia had a range of merchandise, and she had to be impressed with Eric's creative marketing schemes. Seriously, what woman _wouldn't_ want to buy a calendar that had him posing naked on a bed of furs, with eyes that clearly said 'come get me'? And if that didn't cater to their tastes, there were t-shirts, postcards —again with Eric and some other very good looking vampires posing on them— mugs, bookmarks, and even pencils and notepads.

"I see you are impressed with our products," said a voice behind her, making her jump.

"Jesus Christ!" she almost screeched.

"No, I am not you supposed messiah, I'm afraid," said Eric. He looked her up and down, appraising her as if she were an animal for sale or something. At least, that was how she felt. He made a motion with his finger, telling her to turn around for him. She did so and even as she thought about his connections with the Mafia. It didn't make her feel any better about her new boss. She turned and faced him again, waiting for his assessment. He seemed to approve, which she supposed was a good thing. "For a moment, I thought you would end up like your cousin, in a white sundress covered with cherry print."

"It was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen," said a dry female voice. A vampire in the tightest leather dress —with a corset top— was coming their way. "Cherries are for popping, not wearing."

"Pam," said Eric in a half-hearted warning, although he was smirking.

"Cherry print was a in a _Vogue_ spread last month," said Marie. She might be scared, but she wasn't going to stay silent whilst other people made fun of her cousin.

"_Vogue_?" said Pam. She raised a meticulous eyebrow, which she'd enhanced with dark eye-pencil. "I think I'm going to be able to tolerate you."

* * *

Logan didn't like the way Storm was looking at him, or rather, glaring at him. "You negotiated an alliance with the vampires in _Louisiana_ and didn't think it was important enough to tell me?" she demanded.

"Would you have liked it better if I'd made an alliance with the vampires of New York and neglected to tell you?" asked the Wolverine. He'd had enough of this line of questioning, really. Storm might be the principal now that Chuck was gone, but she was not really his boss. The Wolverine had no boss.

Storm looked like she was going to throw an acerbic comeback at him, but as she opened her mouth, the fire seemed to go out. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Logan," she said. "It's just been so stressful these past few days. First it was the new laws, and then the Mafia got involved, and now I find out that we negotiating an alliance with creatures that I had thought only existed in fiction. I need a drink."

"This is a school, Ro," said Logan, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "There's nothing but chocolate milk and soda." He sighed too. "It's been a tough few days for all of us, trust me, but I think that this alliance will change things. Hey, you're back, aren't you? We wouldn't have been able to get you back so quickly without that vampire callin' the Mafia."

"I guess," said Storm. She pulled herself together. "I'm also going down to New Orleans with you when you go. I want to know what sort of trouble we're in exactly."

"I was gonna ask you anyway," said Logan. "Wouldn't think of leavin' you behind. Besides, you need to meet our new ally."

* * *

It wasn't the vampires who scared her, but the customers. How could human beings humiliate themselves like that? She'd seen at least five girls throw themselves at any vampire who walked by, a few who had crawled up to Eric in the hopes that he might take an interest in them —that hadn't happened yet— and even one man in the tightest leather she'd ever seen trying to rub up against Pam. The tightness of the leather, as well as the man's lack of personal fitness, almost made her eyes bleed, and she wondered if she could get someone to remove that particular memory for her.

A few tourists had wandered over to her booth. The calendars were a bestseller, although the postcards were quite popular too. She had her hands busy, taking cash, trying to understand foreign accents, and stopping more than just a few potential thieves from making off with little trinkets. All the while, she was aware that she was being watched, maybe being evaluated. It was understandable. Bosses often liked to evaluate new employees. In the only other job she'd ever had, which had been at the local Seven-Eleven, her boss had been right there beside her for the first couple of days. At least Eric was at the other side of the room, which made her feel just a little less nervous.

Sometime during the night, she wished that she'd thought to pack herself dinner. Apart from bar nuts and crisps, Fangtasia served no other human food. It didn't look as if any of its patrons, human or otherwise, ate human food, at any rate. The fangbangers and fangbanger-wannabes looked as if they survived on alcohol, cigarettes, vitamin B12 supplements and the occasional Tic Tac. Marie was willing to give an arm and a leg —not literally— for a slice of pizza. For a moment, she wondered if she could go and ask if she could take a dinner break so that she could go and grab something, but one look at Eric on his throne made her decide that she was not going to starve if she delayed dinner. So she was definitely surprised when one of the waitresses came up to her, bearing something about a foot long and wrapped in a Subway wrapper.

"The master said to bring you this," she said. "And he said you to tell you that you can take a break." If her words had been in a speech bubble like the way dialogue was written in a comic book, they would have been green. Marie took the sub, glancing at the enthroned Eric as she did so. He was watching her. She nodded her thanks and although he made no indication that he'd seen it, she knew he had. Vampires had supernatural eyesight.

The other woman had already taken her place at the booth, and if looks could kill, Marie would have been dust by now.

* * *

As the night grew older, drunk patrons started leaving, or were kicked out by an almost gleeful Pam for misbehaving. Some morbid and not-nice part of Marie enjoyed watching Pam kick those people out, and she literally did kick them, although she did it very stylishly. Still, being kicked by someone wearing a six inch stiletto boot had to hurt.

The bar was closed by two thirty. The waitresses stayed behind to clean up the half empty glasses and the vomit on the floor. Marie would have volunteered to help to try and get on her colleagues' good side, but Eric waved her over before she could. She picked her way between the tables over to his throne, taking care not to stumble. Her toes and the balls of her feet were aching. Wedges were easier to balance in, but they still put a lot of strain on one's feet, especially since she'd been standing for a couple of hours. How Pam managed her stilettos, she had no idea.

"So?" said Eric. "How find you Fangtasia?"

"It's...exciting, I guess," said Marie.

"Yes," agreed Eric. "I can smell your adrenaline." She wondered what else he could smell. He stood and brought himself up to his full impressive height. "Come," he said. "I'll drive you home."

* * *

She didn't know what came over her. Perhaps it was her nervousness. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the speed, or the fact that if she didn't ask him now, she might never have the nerve to ask him in the future.

"Are you working for the Mafia?" Marie blurted out as Eric pulled up Sookie's bumpy driveway. The vampire slammed on the brake immediately and turned to look at her, his eye-colour indiscernible in the darkness.

"What did you say?" he said, his voice barely a whisper, but she heard him clearly.

"You got the Mafia to get my friends out of Europe, didn't you?" said Marie. She didn't even know how she'd managed to speak. Her heart was so loud that it sounded like a boom box. "Logan told me..."

The vampire swore in a foreign language and then resumed driving up the driveway until he reached the house. He parked the car, put on the handbrake and turned off the engine. "I don't work for the Mafia," he said, "in case you were wondering whether you are now in the employ of the Sicilians." Damn, he'd pretty much read her mind! "And if you mention the Mafia to anyone, and I mean _anyone_, I will be forced to kill you."

"But I'm not the only one who knows," said Marie.

The vampire swore again. "They weren't even supposed to find out in the first place," he growled. "Who else knows?"

"Everyone in the mansion, and me," said Marie.

"Not Sookie?"

"No, not Sookie."

"At least that's some good news. Don't tell her. This cannot get out."

"What, the fact that you have one of the greatest crime organizations in the world at your beck and call?"

"They're not at my beck and call. I called in a personal favour."

"So now you owe them."

"I didn't make a deal with them. It was simply a personal favour, and that is more than you ever need to know. Now get out."

Marie didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled out of the car. Eric shut the door behind her. "Bobby will pick you up again tomorrow," he said, and then he drove off, leaving her wondering what exactly was going on.

* * *

He was speeding more than usual. He didn't care. The speed calmed him down. First thing he had to do was call Howlett and make sure that no one else learned about his links with the Sicilians. The mutant on the other end seemed content enough about not spreading the news, although he was furious that Eric had threatened 'his girl'. The vampire was almost sure that the girl in question would be one of the less likely people to go broadcasting this news all over the place, but he'd threatened her just to be safe. She was smart, and she had a sense of self preservation.

After hanging up on Howlett, he punched in another number. "Âllo," said the crisp voice on the other end. A human voice. Damn; he'd forgotten the time difference.

"Tell your master that his brother has called," said Eric, and then he hung up before the man could ask him anything else. The person who was meant to be receiving the message would understand.

* * *

Going to work the next day was awkward. It wasn't everyday that one's boss made death threats against you. Marie took time in selecting her outfit, choosing a tiny little black dress with sheer sleeves and a high neckline, and pairing them with the same shoes she'd worn the night before. She had embraced the sheer trend, as it allowed her to show skin without the risk that she'd accidentally touch someone. She added short black gloves.

There was a honk outside; Durnham was here, more unhappy than ever that he had to pick up the new cashier every day until she got her own mode of transport. But seriously, she could see why he was so annoyed. What cashier got a chauffeur? Most bosses wouldn't have bothered with their employees' transportation as long as they made it to work on time. Of course, the job was really just an excuse for Eric to keep an eye on her. He had told Logan that himself.

She slid into the passenger seat. Not a word was exchanged during the drive to Shreveport. Bobby Durnham was officially the most anti-social thing she had ever encountered in her whole life. Even Sabretooth had grunted and leered at her. Durnham was acting as if she were a sack of potatoes —or a bag of blood— that his boss had ordered.

All the others were already at the club by the time she slipped in. Eric was nowhere in sight, but after listening in to the others for a while, she deduced that he was having a very heated phone call in his office. Pam's appearance only confirmed it.

"I don't know what you did," said the female vampire, "but I'm impressed that he didn't kill you."

"He threatened to," said Marie.

"Yes, but that's not the same," said Pam. "Those shoes really don't go with that dress."

"I'm not standing for four hours in stilettos, Pam," said Marie. "I'm not you."

"You are right about that part," said Pam. She seemed to find the situation rather amusing. "Come with me."

Marie cautiously followed Pam, wondering what she was up to. Pam led her into what looked like a storage room. It was full of costumes. "I keep my work things here," she said. "These things make my eyes bleed, sometimes literally, so I refuse to have them ruining my wardrobe." She selected a pair of over the knee boots with wedge heels and thigh high stockings that needed garters to hold them up.

"I am not wearing that," said Marie.

"Yes, you are," said Pam, holding out the offending items.

"I'll look like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_!"

"That's the idea, little mutant girl," said the vampire, looking increasingly mirthful. Clearly, she was having fun. At least one of them was enjoying herself.

"I hope your eyes bleed," said Marie as she snatched the boots, stockings and garters. Pam just laughed. At her, not with her.

* * *

He was a vampire that very few other vampires liked. He was also one vampire that no one wanted to offend. No one, perhaps with the exception of one Viking who had known him for eight centuries. "I am asking you, Balian," he growled, unaware that he had slipped into Old Norse. "Why did you tell them that I asked you to help them?"

"Brother, there is no point in helping someone if they do not know that you helped them," said Balian. They called him the Sicilian, as if he was the only Sicilian vampire, which was not true, since he was not actually Sicilian. Some even called him Sicily. Eric was one of the few who knew him as Balian of Ibelin, formerly lord of Nablus and husband to a queen. Actually, he was still husband to a queen. The same queen, in fact. Eric had been to every one of their weddings. "Besides, I did not tell them personally. I merely told my men to mention in passing that you were the one who made the phone call."

"I did not need you to interfere in my business," said Eric. "When I asked you to get them out of Italy and back to the United States without telling them that I asked you, that was exactly what I meant."

"You clearly needed my interference, as you called me to ask for a favour," said Balian, unperturbed. "You will thank me in the end."

"Yes, and if the Magister or the Queen finds out that you are my brother—"

"I know Vladimir Baranova has a high opinion of himself and considers me to be one undeserving of being a vampire," said Balian, "but he would not dare to offend me." Eric could almost hear the smirk in his brother's voice. "If he did, he might find himself on the wrong end of a rocket propelled grenade. Humans maybe physically weak, but they are very innovative when it comes to finding new ways to kill things, especially other humans."

* * *

Things came more naturally to her as she settled into life at Fangtasia. She was able to ignore the near nakedness of the strippers, the pathetic behaviour of fangbangers and she was even able to ignore the fact that many vampires were eyeing her as if they would like to feed from her, thanks to Pam and the costumes that she picked out for her. She was even growing used to the heels. Moreover, it seemed that she might get a new job to add to her current one soon.

Eric had asked her in passing about publicity and ways to attract more customers, as if there weren't enough customers already. She'd suggested that he wear body glitter to imitate Edward Cullen, which had led to the tall blond vampire going off to research the _Twilight_ franchise. The following evening, he'd asked her about what ideas she had to attract more customers who would actually be allowed to be inside an establishment that served alcohol. It seemed that he was thinking of using her as his public relations officer, or something like that. All in all, things were going well, or as well as they could possibly be, for her.

It was a busy night during the Halloween season. All the employees had been required to dress up more than usual. For Marie, that had meant a long black sheath and elbow length gloves. She'd wanted to dress up as a Nazgûl but Pam had vetoed that idea. The Witch King of Angmar was not considered to be sexually appealing. Clearly, she hadn't read some of the fanfiction that existed. The vampire herself had decided to dress up as one of Dracula's brides, which meant that she was wearing a long wine-red gown of many layers of translucent silk and that showed a lot of cleavage. She seemed to be regretting that now as one intoxicated human after another threw themselves at her. Much to her disgust, they were all men. She did enjoy booting them out.

In amidst the drunken revelry and lust-fuelled violence, no one noticed a man in a long coat come in. He ordered a drink and sat down in one of the booths. When his drink arrived, he hardly touched it. He did not join in the dancing or the flirting, he did not throw himself at a vampire. He just did not do anything. No one paid him any attention. He wasn't exciting enough. There he stayed for the entire night, just sitting with his barely touched drink as it grew warm.

When the other patrons left, he was still there. That was when all attention suddenly turned to him.

It began with Ginger, a waitress who had been glamoured so many times that she belonged in a mental institute. "The bar's closin' ," she said.

"Good," he said. "I have been waiting for it to close."

"Uh huh," said Ginger. "Now it's closin' an' you need to leave."

"Actually, I came to speak with the owner of this establishment," he said.

"The master doesn't speak with vermin—" Ginger was cut off in the middle of her sentence by Eric's sudden appearance behind her. Marie stopped tidying the merchandise at her souvenir booth. Belinda, the other waitress, stopped wiping down the tables.

"You asked to speak with me?" said Eric. His tone was dangerous. Anyone who knew him would be shaking in their shoes and pissing their pants by now. However, the stranger was not intimidated. He was not a vampire, so what was he? What made him think that Eric couldn't just snap him in two?

"That depends if you're Eric Northman, the vampire who's negotiating an alliance with mutants," said the man. He had a French accent. No, Cajun. How did he know about the alliance? Marie had thought that it was a secret.

"And if I am?" asked the vampire.

The man stood. He only reached Eric's chin, but there was something about him that made others look twice. He was so confident and calm. It also did not hurt that he was handsome. Oh yes, he definitely was what Marie would call 'hot'. "They call me Gambit," he said. "I lead the mutant underground in North Louisiana."

* * *

**A/N:** Balian of Ibelin is one of my all time favourite historical characters. And of course I had to bring in Gambit.


	14. Old Friends and New Allies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you recognize. They belong to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO. Balian and Sybille are real people from history, although their characterizations are mine.

**Chapter 14: Old Friends and New Allies**

The mutant underground in North Louisiana. There was a mutant underground? Marie looked at the stranger. Gambit. She didn't remember ever hearing that name. As she stood there like an absolute fool with her fingers poised over the packs of bubblegum she'd been tidying, she saw Pam turn and indicate that she should join the little group. Probably Eric's orders. Ginger and Belinda were dismissed. They'd probably have to come in early the next afternoon to finish cleaning up.

Marie carefully picked her way over, aware that she was a minor taking part in some very serious adult conversation. 'You can do this,' she told herself. She'd hitchhiked from Mississippi to Canada, hopped in the trailer of a guy with claws, gotten kidnapped by a terrorist, had her school attacked by special forces, and she survived. She could deal with this. She hoped. Gambit gave her a smile when he saw her. Did he know she was a mutant, or was he smiling because he was just being friendly? "Bonsoir, cherie," he said. She managed to whisper a 'hello' in return.

Eric glanced at the two of them. "Did you know about this mutant underground?" he asked Marie.

She shook her head. "I knew there were mutants out there evading the authorities for whatever the reason," she said, "but I didn't know they were organized."

"Oh, we're not, _cherie_, believe me," said Gambit. "I just gave it a name because it sounds good."

"So if you're not organized," said Eric, "then what are you?"

"Just people trying to find a way to live in a world that doesn't want them," said Gambit. "Same as you."

"Why did you think we were interested in having anything to do with you, _cher_?" asked Pam.

"You are forging an alliance with the Wolverine," said Gambit. "So why not add more mutants onto your list of allies?"

"You know Logan Howlett?" said Eric. He flicked his eyes in Marie's direction, and then turned back to the Cajun mutant. "How do you know him?"

"Everyone in the mutant world knows about the Wolverine," said Gambit. "I just happen to be the man who saved him from being crushed by a falling piece of nuclear reactor."

"Logan never mentioned you," said Marie, finally finding her voice. All eyes turned to her. She saw Eric nod almost imperceptibly.

"Logan," said Gambit, "has amnesia, _cherie_. The last time I saw him, he didn't even know his own name."

There was a moment of silence. Marie glanced at Eric, wondering what he was going to do. Was he going to kill the Cajun? Was he going to ask him to leave? It was so hard to read what the vampire was thinking. He'd had centuries to perfect his poker face, and it really was perfect. "Come back tomorrow night," said Eric at last. It was not what Marie had expected to hear him say. "Then we'll know if you were telling the truth or not, _cher_."

* * *

Sookie was more than annoyed when she had to tell Sam that she had to go to Fangtasia yet again. In reality, she had no one else to blame but herself. _She_ had been the one who had made the deal with Eric, not Bill and certainly not poor Marie who'd had to deliver the message and thus borne the brunt of her wrath. Although, come to think of it, her cousin hadn't been all that frightened.

"Again?" said Sam. The shifter was not amused. "Sookie, you've just finished working for that vampire!"

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, Sam," said Sookie.

"Glad you know it," said Sam.

"But I made a deal with him," said Sookie.

"Yeah, but you work for me," said Sam. He sighed. "I don't suppose I've got much choice."

"I don't suppose you do," said Sookie.

"I'm just worried about you, Sook," said her boss. He set down the crate of vegetables he'd been carrying. "The last time you worked for him, you came back bruised and battered, and I suspect Compton had already fed you his blood beforehand. This is not healthy, Sookie."

"I know," said the telepath, "but it's even less healthy to refuse him. You know how vampires are. They're not all like Bill."

"I wouldn't know," said the shifter. "I haven't met enough vampires. Fine, since I've got no choice, I might as well give you the night off graciously."

Sookie flung her arms around her boss' neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Seriously, Sam, you're the best boss in the world, you know that?" she said.

"Yeah? Your cousin didn't seem to think so, since she ran off to work for the vampire," said Sam, but he was joking now. He knew that Marie needed more hours than he could give her, and that Eric's offer had been too good to resist. He also knew that she was a mutant, and that her powers could potentially cause problems if she continued her job as a waitress. What he didn't know was the specifics, and Sookie had no intention of telling him about her cousin's ability to suck life out of people, literally.

* * *

This time, Marie immediately noticed when the Cajun mutant walked through the door. He nodded at her in greeting before going to the booth he had occupied the night before. Sookie and Bill had been sitting in another booth, but Bill must have seen one of Eric's minute motions, because as soon as Gambit had settled down in his seat, the Confederate vampire rose from his seat. That was Marie's cue. She waved Ginger over and asked her to watch the booth for a moment while she followed the odd party into Eric's office. Her boss had asked her to be there, although the exact reason had eluded her. Maybe he wanted her to relay to Logan and the others that he was keeping them in the loop?

By the time she got there, Sookie was already sitting across from Gambit and holding onto his hands. Most of the telepaths Marie had known had liked to touch people's heads in order to get a clearer reading. Perhaps Sookie was a different sort of telepath.

"What is your real name?" Eric asked of the Cajun.

"Remy LeBeau," said the man. LeBeau? That was fitting.

"He doesn't mean any harm," said Sookie. "He really did save Logan from being crushed by a falling piece of nuclear reactor."

"I told you," said Gambit, or rather, Remy.

"And he threw Logan through a brick wall before that," continued the telepath with a wince. "Why did you do that?"

"Can't you read it for yourself, _cherie_?" asked Remy with a wink.

"Just answer the question," said Eric.

"I thought he was a threat," said the Cajun with a shrug. "No one got hurt. It was Logan. He went and jumped out of my plane afterwards."

He went and jumped out of a plane afterwards. That sounded like something that Logan would do. It was completely insane, although Marie knew that he hated flying enough to do just that. He probably had other reasons, of course, or else he wouldn't have been in that plane in the first place.

"So?" said Remy. "Did I pass the test?"

"I say we keep him," said Pam. "Anyone who can throw _that_ mutant through a brick wall is worth keeping around."

* * *

Remy had to say that he didn't know shit about vampires, apart from the fact that they drank blood. He'd only approached Northman because he truly needed help. He also needed employment, and he'd been hoping that some rich vampire might hire him to work during the day. He knew that they had human employees to do much of their business for them, and in his eyes, he was better than most of the human employees. At least he was difficult to kill, and very efficient when it came to completing tasks of debatable legality. He related this all to Northman, who looked just like a marble statue sculpted during the Renaissance.

"So you can take the potential energy of any object and turn it into kinetic energy?" said the blond vampire. His expression was unreadable. Well, he was pretty much a talking statue. What could a man expect? "That's pretty impressive, Monsieur LeBeau."

"Thank you," said Remy. "I will be very useful to you, believe me. Better than any human employee."

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "You maybe more efficient, but it would also make you more difficult to control. Who's to say you will not betray me?"

"Who's to say Howlett will not betray you?" asked the mutant in return. It was a pretty unlikely scenario, Logan betraying anyone. He might not have known the Wolverine for all that long, but treachery didn't seem to be in his blood.

"He wouldn't," said the vampire with a smug grin. "I know how to choose my allies."

* * *

Marie pulled on her X-Men uniform. Her emotions were mixed, and she was confused. There was pride, because she was proud to be one of the X-Men, but there was regret, also; regret that the Cure hadn't been permanent, and that there was no knowing what side effects it could have if she took it again. There had been reports of mutants growing sick, or even dying, when they took more than two doses of the cure. Worthington Pharmaceuticals was working on a solution, but so far, they had been unsuccessful.

"You know," said Sookie as she came out of her bedroom, wearing her costume which they'd picked out together. "Would it really hurt business that much if he didn't open up for one night?" She was talking about Eric, of course. He was the one who was throwing a costume party at Fangtasia tonight, and thus charging a bit more than usual. He saw no reason not to open just because they were flying to New Orleans at two in the morning. He simply said that they would close at midnight.

"He's a businessman," said Marie with a shrug. "They're all about maximising profits." She looked her cousin up and down. "And Bill is going to be so stunned when he sees you." It was true. They'd decided to turn Sookie into a Marilyn Monroe lookalike, or at least try. Marie had dragged her to a vintage store and they'd spent hours looking through all the discarded clothing. There were treasures to be found in those shops, if only one knew how to look. They'd found a long pearly silk gown with a thigh high slit down one side. The neckline was modest, to make up for the amount of leg that it showed. They'd had to make some alterations, as the woman who'd previously owned the dress had been larger than Sookie, but now she looked like a real movie star, especially with her heavily embellished sandals that sparkled.

"You don't think it's too over the top?" asked Sookie, turning around so that her cousin could see the full effect.

"It's a costume party," said Marie. "You're supposed to go over the top."

"And you're wearing a uniform," Sookie pointed out.

"Who'd know the difference?" said Marie.

* * *

That 'uniform' of hers was hugging her body in all the wrong places. Curves obviously ran in Sookie's family, and as much as he hated to admit it, he liked the look of Marie's very much, which only made him all the more irritated, because here was a female he literally couldn't touch, on pain of death. When she had said she was wearing her uniform to work this evening, he had assumed that she had meant the kinky school uniforms with terribly short tartan skirts that some of the fangbangers liked to wear. He was glad, for once, that he was wrong.

"Eric, you've been staring at that girl for the past five minutes," said Pam, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Not that that costume of hers isn't very distracting, of course."

"There is no harm in looking," said the Viking.

"Too bad that looking is all we can do, with that one," said the female vampire. He knew Pam wasn't really thinking about Marie in that manner. She preferred those who were more overtly sexual. He sometimes did too, but he lost interest in those humans soon enough. Pam, on the other hand, was not quite old enough to be so picky just yet.

"That's what makes her so interesting, Pam," he said. "We only know what happens when she touches mutants and humans, but who knows what could happen if she touches a vampire?"

"And it doesn't hurt that she looks like Bill's telepath," said his progeny as she rolled her eyes. She didn't think much of his interest in either of the cousins at all. It did distract him, sometimes, but he was excellent at compartmentalizing. One did not survive for as long as he did without being able to do that.

"She's much more than just a stand in for Sookie," he said. "Think about it. Sookie's powers cannot kill."

"I suppose the danger does make her more delectable," she said. "But she's too soft for my tastes. That blonde over there, however..." Her voice trailed off. Eric followed her gaze until he saw the woman that Pam had seen. She was tall, with long sinewy limbs and a terrific bone structure. Her blonde hair tumbled in luscious curls around her face and neck, and her light blue dress contrasted badly with the atmosphere in Fangtasia. She looked like she belonged on a Californian beach instead of in a vampire bar. And then when she caught sight of Eric, her eyes flashed yellow.

"It seems that our allies are here, Pam," he said with a smile. Trust the metamorph to choose to appear in this form. He'd have to tell her that she'd chosen well.

"The blonde?" said Pam. "I thought we were dealing with mutants, not supermodels."

"That woman can be whatever she wishes," said Eric. He stood. What sort of host would he be if he didn't make some effort to look like he appreciated his guests' presence? Logan was coming in, along with Magneto, a few teenagers, a beautiful African-American woman with a short white bob, a man who was dressed like some sort of action figurine and something that reminded the Viking of the bears he used to hunt. From what he could see of their body language, something was going on with the mutants. Howlett looked like he wanted to kill something, and the beast man in the large fur coat seemed to be more than gleeful at the sight of all those naked humans. Eric could smell his bloodlust from here.

What were the mutants playing at? "Go and greet our guests, Pam," he said. "And then bring them here to me."

* * *

"This is awesome!" he heard Jubilee say. She'd probably think that, seeing as she was underage and therefore any club would be considered awesome, and this wasn't just any club. Northman had said that he was throwing a costume party for no reason whatsoever. Many of those costumes consisted of near nakedness. They might as well have gone without.

"Are we underdressed?" asked Bobby nervously. Logan spared him a glance. The poor kid probably wasn't used to seeing so much skin and overt sexuality. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down.

"I think we're overdressed, Popsicle," said Logan. "I mean, we're wearing clothes."

"You said Rogue works here?" said Jubilee. She was standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck, trying to spot her friend. Logan spotted her at her booth, shooing away a few drunks who had gotten it into their heads that it would be all right to take a couple of postcards without paying. She grinned when she saw him, and he winked. Obviously Northman had kept his word and was treating her well. Her smile faded when she caught sight of some of the people who had accompanied him. She didn't know Juggernaut, but she definitely recognized the Sabretooth.

Magneto had started spreading the news that there was going to be an alliance of non-humans against the new laws, and within days, his old minions had started turning up, along with other mutants. They were having trouble finding enough space to put them all in the mansion. If he had had any choice, Logan wouldn't have brought Juggernaut and the Sabretooth along, but he definitely wasn't going to leave them in the mansion unsupervised. Besides, if they were going to meet the Queen of Louisiana, who, from the information that the blond vampire had given him, did not seem to be the most genial of people, it might be a good idea to have people who looked incredibly impressive in their little delegation. Well, it wasn't so little anymore.

Pyro was here too; he'd come back only a few days after Logan had returned to New York, worse for wear. If he'd expected a warm welcome, then he'd been mistaken. He hadn't exactly been turned away, but his former friends were now pretending that he didn't exist, and Logan only acknowledged his existence simply because he didn't want the boy to burn the mansion down, and had therefore insisted on dragging him all the way down here to Louisiana, where he could keep an eye on him. The boy was flicking his lighter on and off, as he tended to do when he was either bored or nervous. The Wolverine threw him a look, and he stopped.

Logan's thoughts about his charges were broken when Pam appeared in front of him as if she'd teleported there. "They're underage," she said, nodding at the teenagers.

"They're Marie's age, and you hired her," said Logan.

"We got fake papers saying that we're two years older than we really are, if you want to see them," said Jubilee. She shrugged when both Logan and Pam turned to look at her. "What can I say? Those guys in Italy were brilliant." He'd told her that she wasn't to mention the Mafia, and clearly, she'd paid attention, but was toeing the line anyway.

"Jubilation Lee," said Storm behind her. "Not now."

"Well, if the police come, show them your fake papers," said Pam. "I'm only interested in not losing our liquor license." She turned to Logan. "The master is waiting."

They pushed through the crowd of party-goers, who were oblivious to the political intrigue that was taking place. Northman was once again on his throne, only this time he looked like he belonged in some Hollywood movie about vampires. He had a black cape with red lining, and a high collar.

"So this is the fanger we've been hearing about," said the Sabretooth. One corner of his mouth curled up in a sneer. Logan wondered if he should have left Sabretooth outside to guard the rented van or something. He should have known that the mutant would try and cause trouble. It was all he seemed to be able to do.

* * *

Sookie noticed immediately when the mutants came in. It wasn't that she saw them, because she didn't. She was sitting down and the crowd prevented her from seeing anything. However, when they did come in, the timbre of the thoughts inside the club changed. Men were noticing a gorgeous blonde in a blue mini dress, and some of the fangbangers even became interested in people who didn't have fangs. Logan did look pretty good in that tight uniform, she had to admit. Actually, he'd always looked good, only the uniform just drew one's attention to his great form and his muscles. There was also a wave of fear as party-goers caught sight of two huge men. The tallest one would tower over even Eric, and his shoulders were as broad as that of a bear's. The second man was shorter, but he was wide and built like a rock. He also wore a hideous yellow outfit that included a ridiculous helmet.

As she probed further, trying to get into the minds of the mutants she didn't recognize, she sensed the desire for blood and violence. There were faint screams. A woman was shouting in a foreign language, begging. They were in a village somewhere in Asia, and the houses were built with bamboo and wood. She saw a clawed hand wrapped around a woman's arm. The woman was thrown onto a bed. And then Logan was there. Logan knew this guy? They were fighting back to back. There was a lot of bitterness. This man, as bloodthirsty and immoral as he was, missed his little brother who had followed him and supported him in everything. Wait. _Logan _had been this guy's little brother? She was jerked out of her thoughts as Bill grabbed her hand.

"Sookie?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Logan's here," she said. She would have liked to tell Bill what she'd seen, but it wasn't her secret to tell. Logan himself didn't even know that his brother was right here in this very room, standing only a couple of feet away from him. If she was going to tell anyone, it would be him. "I wanna go and say hello."

"I'll come with you," said Bill, setting down his half finished True Blood. He escorted her through the throngs of people. She turned her shields up to stop their thoughts of violent sex from distracting her. Marie was still at her booth, but she wasn't really paying any attention to her customers. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the meeting that was proceeding without her. Sookie waved her over. She deserved to be there. After all, without her, the notion of a mutant-vampire alliance might not even have been conceived. Marie seemed uncertain, but Sookie kept on waving to her, and she relented.

As she approached, Sookie could sense the tension. Some of the younger mutants who looked as if they were Marie's age, were broadcasting very clearly. The large mutant, the one whose memories she'd glimpsed, had just insulted Eric, and Logan was attempting to mediate and calm things down, although from what she could see, the Wolverine looked like he'd like nothing more than to throw the large mutant out of the club himself. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he didn't want to cause a scene. 'Good on you, Logan,' she thought. He must have sensed her probing his thoughts, because he gave her and Bill the briefest of smiles before going back to growling at the brother he did not know about.

"I've no idea why Logan brought that guy," said Marie as she caught up with Sookie and Bill. "He's a complete psychopath."

"We'll soon find out what's going on," said Bill, offering Marie his other arm. "Shall we, ladies?"

* * *

Eric was itching to teach that insolent mutant a lesson. He might be taller than the Viking, and he might have fangs, but he was no millennia old vampire. If he had really wanted to, Eric was certain that he could snap the mutant's neck. He wasn't even going to call him a man, because that would be an insult to all humans. However, since the mutant —Sabretooth— was in Howlett's delegation, he would have to let Howlett deal with him. If the Wolverine's body language was any indication, then Howlett was itching to teach this Sabretooth a lesson too. For once, they agreed on something.

He turned his attention to Magneto, the man who was responsible for Sabretooth's presence in Fangtasia. "You spread the message?"

"I only mentioned it," said the man, certain of his own safety. "News finds its way around in the mutant world, but I assure you that it remains a secret to the humans and to all other vampires."

Howlett snorted. "Yeah, and the Queen of New York found out, somehow," he said. Eric stiffened. The last thing he needed was for other vampires to find out about this vampire-mutant alliance before it was made official. If the other kings and queens found out, then surely they would try and find themselves some mutants as well, and from what he knew, mutants had no high authority that they all had to obey. It would end up being a civil war, with mutants and vampires from all the kingdoms in North America being pitted against each other, and he would have absolutely no advantage.

"Is she the only one who knows?"

"I think so," said Howlett. "She told me she got the information from a mutual friend of yours and wondered if we would prefer to draw up a treaty with her rather than with your queen."

"How did you answer her?" asked Eric.

"I told her that I had a deal with you, Northman," said Howlett. "She didn't seem angry. Just disappointed."

A mutual friend? "Excuse me," said the Viking, rising from his throne. "I have a few private phone calls that I need to make."

* * *

Sybille Royale sipped on a flute of chilled carbonated blood as she watched the traffic on the road down below. The cabs and limos seemed so insignificant from above; just tiny pinpricks of light, and there were so many lights. This was, after all, New York, the city that didn't sleep. This side of her penthouse was made entirely of bulletproof glass that could be turned opaque with the push of a button. It was the latest technology, developed by a company in which she owned the majority of shares. She owned a lot of shares and companies. After all, the Queen of New York City and of New York State could not be poor. Ever.

She saw her reflection on the glass. Her skin was milky pale, but there was a glow on her cheeks from the blood. Her dark hair had been pinned up, and her choker of diamonds and platinum only emphasized the slimness of her neck. Her simple black Grecian chiffon gown draped her body in just the right way; it had been made to fit her, and only her. The dress was by a new designer she was patronizing, and already he'd been inundated with numerous calls from both humans and vampires who wanted to buy his clothes after she'd been photographed wearing them. Her mother had been a great beauty in her day, and she had inherited that beauty. It wasn't pride; simply reality.

She stepped away from her window and aimlessly walked towards her desk. There were reports that needed reading, balance sheets that needed reviewing and requests that needed approval. She flicked through them with little interest. She didn't actuallly need to do this work; that was what ministers and subjects were for. She'd already organized her territory in such a way that it operated like a modern nation, only one with a monarch. Technically, she didn't need to do anything, but she liked keeping an eye on things, just to make sure that her subjects weren't cheating her. Her stiletto heels sank into the lush carpet. She selected a file containing the financial statements from the past year and went over to the plush leather sofa by the wall. The lighting in the room was dim, giving it a decidedly romantic atmosphere, although there was nothing romantic about going over the previous financial year and analyzing what could be done to increase profits. At any rate, Sybille had given up on romance. The illusion of romance had ruined her once. She wasn't going to let that happen to her again. She had just set the glass chute of blood down on her glass-topped coffee table when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she said. There was no danger; she would have been able to sense it otherwise.

"Your Majesty?" Sybille turned. One of her ladies in waiting stood there with the phone. "The Sheriff of Area Five in Louisiana wishes to speak with you, milady."

Sybille smiled. "Thank you, Elspeth," she said as she took the phone. "You may go now." Elspeth curtseyed and then left. The queen made sure that the door was closed and that no one was eavesdropping before putting the phone to her ear. "Eric, darling, how nice to hear from you at last. I thought you'd forgotten me."

"Don't toy with me, Sibylla. You know why I'm calling," said the voice of the angry Viking on the other end. He was one of the few people who called her Sibylla, the name that her parents had given her.

"Actually, I have no idea," said Sybille. Her smile only grew wider. She did have some idea; in fact, she had a lot of ideas about why he was calling, but she did enjoying winding him up, if only a little. It was just for fun, and she meant no harm by it.

"The mutants," said Eric.

"Oh," said Sybille, drawing out the syllable. "Now I know. Yes, I might have contacted them and proposed an alliance between them and the Crown of New York. After all, they are in my state. Frankly, I'm disappointed you didn't tell me about them. I had to hear about them from my stepmother."

"This isn't a game, Sibylla," said Eric. Perhaps she had hit a nerve. "These are my mutants, and I am taking them to my queen tomorrow. Their alliance is with her, and me."

"Sophie-Ann wouldn't know how to be a queen even if she read the manual," said Sybille, letting some of the disdain she felt for the queen of Louisiana creep into her voice. Sophie-Ann LeClerq had been a peasant's daughter, and she would always be, no matter what she called herself. Sybille, on the other hand, had been born royal. "She's a true barbarian, with no notion of civilization. Seriously, Eric, from one friend to another, I don't know why you serve her. You deserve a better sovereign."

"You tried to recruit me once, and you failed," said Eric. There. He sounded a bit more like himself now; more cheerful and more smug. "What makes you think I changed my mind? I like Louisiana, and I don't want to depend on family connections."

"Family connections are everything," said Sybille. "Without them, your brother, my stepfather, wouldn't be ruling all of southern Europe."

"Balian can do things his way if he wishes," said Eric. "I do things my way."

"You are always so stubborn," said Sybille.

"It's part of my charm," he said. "I mean it, Sibylla. Don't mess with my mutants, and tell my brother to keep his Gallic nose out of my business. I don't need his help, and I certainly don't need yours."

"Fine," said Sybille. "Have it your way, then. If you change your mind, make an appointment with my secretary."

She ended the call. No one hung up on a queen, and Eric was notorious for hanging up without saying goodbye. It had been a while since she'd seen him, but she had no doubt that he hadn't changed much. They'd had a brief relationship a few centuries ago, during the Renaissance. It had been fun, and they'd parted on good terms. It was a pity that he insisted on staying with Sophie-Ann, who had no idea how luck she was to have someone like Eric Northman working for her. In fact, if that barbarian knew what was good for her, she'd put him in charge of her finances. She certainly didn't know how to manage money. From the bank records she'd had one of the humans in her employ —an FBI agent working quite high up in the bureau— subpoena for her, she knew that Sophie-Ann was in deep financial trouble. It wouldn't be long now before her ship capsized.

* * *

**A/N:** Does anyone know who Sybille really is? Any guesses? If anyone's interested in knowing what certain characters look like, I've posted some pictures up on my website, **Impossibility Arises**. You'll find the link on my profile page.


	15. You're Both Betas

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 15: You're Both Betas**

Vampire politics was absolutely confusing. He didn't get any of it. He wasn't sure he wanted to get any of it. The world was ugly enough without seeing the undead backstab one another. When Northman came back, he seemed more uptight. "You will mention the Queen of New York to nobody," he said. "It's dangerous."

"You don't like her?" asked Sookie.

"What I feel about her is of no importance," said Northman. "What does matter is the fact that she and my queen have no love for one another."

"Okay," said Logan. "Louisiana hates New York. Don't talk about New York to Louisiana. Got it."

* * *

Marie couldn't remember ever enjoying herself so much in a public setting before. Eric had given her the rest of the night off so that she could join in the party, on the condition that she made up for it when they came back from New Orleans. Sure, she and her friends had had to go to the nearest Seven Eleven to get drinks, but the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating and the music was infectious. She'd never heard of these vampire bands before she'd come to work at Fangtasia, and she was glad she'd discovered them, because they had great sound. Sensitive vampire hearing meant that the pitch and dynamics had to be all perfect. The DJ was good too; he made sure that the music was loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that they couldn't hear one another talk.

"I can't believe you work here, girl!" said Jubilee. "It's insane! Your boss is hot, by the way, and _so_ badass."

"I guess he is kinda good looking," said Marie, remembering how he had looked on the jet without a shirt. "He's also violent and domineering and proud of it."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," said Jubilee with a laugh.

"Don't even think about it," said Marie. "He's totally out of our league, or any woman's league."

"So he's into men?"

"Oh, Jubes, I'm sorry I never asked my ancient and terrifying boss about his sex life." The two of them burst out into giggles. In their defence, they were high on caffeine. A lot of caffeine. Everything seemed to be funny, like seeing Logan being practically mauled by girls in very little clothes and getting very embarrassed and frustrated about it, or the fact that Bobby was showing off to Bill. Even Pyro's sulking seemed to be hilarious. Maybe she was just glad to see some familiar faces again, that, and the fact that she was very sensitive to caffeine.

"Mademoiselle?" Marie turned. Remy LeBeau, Eric's newest daytime man —Durnham only had two hands and feet and couldn't really do everything for him during the day anymore— and the man who'd been picking her up from her house for the past few days, stood there, looking as dashing as she had remembered him to be. "Do you mind if I cut in?"

"Go, girl!" whispered Jubilee because she dashed off, loudly proclaiming that she needed another drink, and leaving Marie alone with the Cajun. Gambit held out his hand to Marie, who hesitantly placed hers on his palm. He had beautiful hands with long fingers. He smiled when he saw her glancing at his hands.

"They say that a man's ability to give a woman pleasure is related directly to the size of his hands," he said.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about that," said Marie. She felt her face growing very hot. The other mutant laugh.

"Relax, Miss D'Ancanto," he said. "I was only teasing." He started moving in time with the music, and she found herself complementing him. She'd never danced properly with a male before, much less a man. Logan knew how to dance, but he never did it. Bobby had two left feet, and Cody had never gotten to take her to the prom. Here was a real man, a man who had seen the world, and somehow, he was noticing her, even though they had just met.

"You should call me Rogue," she said. "Only Eric calls me Miss D'Ancanto, and Bobby Durnham, but that's probably because Eric made him be polite."

"Rogue?" said Gambit, raising a dark eyebrow in amusement. He grinned, giving her a glimpse of straight white teeth. "_Cherie_, you are the complete opposite of a Rogue. You are a real lady."

"But that's my name," said Marie.

"Not your real name, _cherie_."

"Your real name isn't Gambit, but that's what we call you."

"Then you must call me Remy, Marie. Isn't it odd? Our names sound like the reverse of one another." He let go of one of her hands and twirled her around.

"It's just a coincidence," she said, as she spun back to him.

"I don't believe in coincidence, _cherie_," he said with a wink. Marie laughed. Right, she would never have so much caffeine ever again. It was making her silly and giggly.

"Now you're just being cheesy," she said.

"I know for a fact that you like cheese," said Gambit. "The boss had me pick up a double cheeseburger for you last night."

Really? That had been Eric's doing? She glanced at the throne. The vampire in question was still sitting there like a statue and looking absolutely gorgeous. How did he know she liked double cheeseburgers? Although, come to think of it, he always seemed to know what everyone needed. He might seem like a cold bastard, but he'd told the truth when he'd said that he took care of his own. Remy seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but what could she say? She was dancing with one man and thinking about another. Wait, that implied that she had romantic feelings for at least one of them, and she didn't. Not really. 'Focus,' she told herself. She was being an idiot. Here she was, dancing with a charming handsome man who knew what she was and wasn't afraid of her, and she was thinking about a vampire who had ripped people apart and who probably wanted to use her for something.

She turned her attention back to Remy, who was looking at her with concern. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Sure. I'm just a little worried, y'know, about this business between vampires and mutants and vampire royalty."

"You shouldn't worry too much about it," said Remy. "You're not the one who's going to decide the outcome."

"I guess so," said Marie. "I mean, I don't even know why I'm going, although I'd hate to be left behind. I just don't know what use I'd be. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Just a little," said Remy with a cheeky smile, "but I'm enjoying it."

* * *

He saw her dancing with the Cajun. Her cheeks were red, either from embarrassment or from the high temperatures inside the bar, or perhaps from the caffeine in the six bottles of Diet Cola that she'd consumed. Gambit had his hand on her waist. She moved with him, in time with the music. Their conversation was animated. He wasn't sure she'd ever said as much to him in two weeks as she had to Remy LeBeau in the past three days.

With disgust, Eric realized that he was feeling jealous, and there was no rational explanation for it, except for the fact that he'd claimed the girl as his property. Even worse, his child had been able to sense his feelings. "Maybe you should go dance with her, then, if you really feel so strongly about it," she said. Pam had been in a bad mood ever since Mystique had told her that she only slept with men.

"Maybe I will," he said. He sounded calm, although he wasn't feeling quite so calm. He didn't like it when other men trespassed on his territory; in fact, that downright offended him, and when that man was someone in his employ, it was twice as offensive.

* * *

The song ended, and she was feeling more ecstatic than ever. Remy was an excellent dancer, and so attentive to her lack of expertise. His smile drew her in, and she could stare at those dark eyes forever. Her mind seemed to be losing track of all cohesive thought. How could she just lose it all so quickly? She'd fallen for boys before, of course, and she'd had two prior relationships. Well, one proper relationship; Cody had gone into a coma when he'd tried to kiss her, poor guy. But if this worked out, then Remy was going to be the first man—no, this was ridiculous. It was her hormones speaking, not her brain.

Remy's hand moved down to her waist. She could feel the heat of his hand even through the material of her uniform. It looked like leather, but it was much stretchier than leather, which allowed for ease of movement, and designed to mould to the body perfectly to lessen air resistance when fighting. The light touch sent shivers up her spine. The other mutant took notice of the effect he was having on her, and he grinned. "You are so young and soft, _cherie_," he murmured in his lilting accent. "It's...refreshing.

"I don't think I'm high enough to allow for that kind of talk, Monsieur LeBeau," she said, pretending to be offended. Personally, she was rather enjoying this semi-dirty flirting. It had been a while since she'd done any of this. Actually, scrap that. She'd practised flirting to a phantom male in the shower, that was all. Neither Bobby nor Cody had actually flirted with her properly, not the way a real man would have flirted.

"Perhaps another drink is in order, then," said the Cajun with a wink. "Maybe something a little stronger?"

"Underage," said Marie with some regret. "And unlike Jubilee, I don't have a fake ID."

"I assure you I will have no problem in procuring one for you," said Remy with a grin. "I'm very well connected."

"I don't doubt it, Monsieur LeBeau," said Marie with a laugh. He did look like the kind of guy who knew where to get fake IDs. In fact, she wouldn't be so surprise if he made them himself.

"May I cut in?" Marie stopped in mid-laughter. Eric was towering over them like a blond pagan god. His blue eyes were unfathomable and unreadable, which was usually not such a good sign, from Marie's experience. One could never know what to expect from him when he wore such an expression.

"Sure, boss," said Remy. The Cajun sensed something was up as well, and he was wise enough not to question the vampire. After all, this was Eric's territory, and in Fangtasia, he was the highest authority. "I'll see you when you get back, _cherie_. Enjoy New Orleans." He winked at her again and then disappeared into the crowd.

"Au revoir," whispered Marie. She turned her attention back to the giant of a vampire who was standing before her. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she placed her hand in his proffered one, wondering why he had decided to pay attention to her of all people. Surely a woman like Mystique would be more worthy of his attentions?

"You seem to be getting along well with our new friend," remarked Eric. He was also an excellent dancer. Then again, all fighters were good at dancing, and Eric was an exceptional warrior, from what she'd seen.

"He is very personable," she said.

"And what would you call me?" he asked, smirking as he did so and showing his very white teeth.

"Impressive," she said. "You're very impressive, and intimidating."

"Do I intimidate you, little Marie?"

"Only a lot."

Eric's grin only grew wider. Men. It didn't matter whether they were alive or dead; they still seemed to have this thing about being the largest and most frightening. She felt her boss' hand on her waist, where Remy's had been just a few moments before. His hand was decidedly cooler. Eric leaned in closer; so close that their faces were almost touching. She could smell his cologne, although she couldn't identify it. Didn't Pam once mention that he used Hugo Boss colognes? His eyes never blinked as he stared at her, making her throat grow dry all of a sudden. She swallowed a few times. "You're too good for that scamp, little Marie," he whispered.

* * *

These Anubis planes were always so comfortable, and according to Marie, who'd flown with another airline before, the little care packages provided by Anubis were far superior to those of that other airline. Sookie had to take her word for it, since she'd only ever flown with Anubis, and on the X-Jet, but that didn't count. They weren't using the jet because it simply wasn't big enough to hold so many people; that, and the fact that it wasn't really designed for vampire travel. She had a feeling that neither Bill nor Eric wanted to sleep in the bare cargo hold again. Mystique was going to bring the jet down to New Orleans later, so that the mutants could fly back up to New York once this meeting with the Queen was over.

The telepath glanced at Marie, wondering what was making her cousin so restless. She considered letting down her shields and probing the other girl's mind, but decided against it. She'd been brought up to respect others' privacy, and she believed in that. Still, she was worried about the girl. She had seemed a little out of sorts ever since last night. At first, Sookie had put it down to the excitement of finally going to New Orleans to discuss the treaty, but from what she was getting off her cousin —mental shields were never entirely impermeable, especially not when the person 'broadcasting' was so close— it wasn't excitement, but confusion and trepidation. "Marie?" she said. "Is something going on?"

Marie looked up from her magazine —one of the fashion ones that she and Pam inexplicably both loved. She seemed startled by Sookie's question. Sookie raised an eyebrow at her, and she hesitated. "Come on," she said. "You know you can trust me. I can keep a secret." The younger girl looked around. Everyone else was either in their coffins or otherwise preoccupied. Logan, the only person who could possibly overhear a private conversation right now, was concentrating very hard on his game of solitaire and listening to music to take his mind off the fact that he was twenty thousand feet in the air.

"Well, as long as you don't tell a single soul because I _really_ don't want this to get out," whispered Marie. She kept on glancing sideways, as if she expected someone to be listening in. "Last night was...weird."

"In what way?" Sookie had to admit that she'd been too busy trying to maintain her shields instead of keeping an eye open for her cousin. Besides, Marie had seemed fine at the party, or was she missing something.

"I don't know if I should be scared, but...are vampires always possessive?"

"I guess they are kinda possessive," said Sookie slowly, thinking about her first 'date' with Bill, when he'd claimed her as his. "Why are you askin'?"

Marie told Sookie of her dance with Remy LeBeau —Sookie grinned, then, because Remy really was very handsome, and if she weren't so happy with Bill, she'd have considered him— and what occurred afterwards. "So I was just wondering...well, it's definitely got me confused," finished the younger girl.

"That does sound a little bit odd," said Sookie. Eric had always shown an irrational and unwelcome interest in her cousin ever since he'd met her, but telling her that she was too good for Remy LeBeau? That was an odd move. He'd shown great interest in the telepath too, but his remarks to her had always been full of innuendo and jabs at her boyfriend.

"That's not making me feel any better," said Marie.

"At least he's not trying to get into your pants."

"If he were, then at least I'd know what's going on. This is just frightening."

* * *

New Orleans. The city had bounced back after the devastating hurricane that had hit it a few years ago, although there was still a while to go before it fully recovered, if a full recovery was possible. The lights of the city were blazing. There was a mix of French and English being spoken, and the city was entirely antique and modern at the same time. Tall skyscrapers of glass occupied the same space as old-southern architecture with their delicately decorated arches. There were black limousines waiting for them, each capable of holding six people.

"Shit," whispered Bobby. He'd known that they were getting involved with some very important vampires, but limos? What had Rogue been doing in the last few weeks? He glanced at her. She stood near the front of the delegation, close to the huge blond vampire. He didn't like the way the vampire looked at his ex. They were still friends, the last time they'd talked, and somewhere inside him, Bobby still had feelings for her. They'd simply decided that things simply weren't going to work out between them. Rogue had issues.

"Getting jealous?" said John. The other boy was watching him with a smirk on his face. He'd just gotten his butane lighter back and he was flicking it on and off the way he always did.

"Shut up, Candlestick," said Jubilee. "That's Rogue's boss."

"He looks like he's more than her boss." It seemed that Pyro wanted to get a rise out of someone —probably because he'd been ignored for the entire flight— and Bobby was in the mood to indulge him.

"Cut it out, you two," said Logan, glancing back at them. "This ain't the time for alpha male posturin', an' you're both betas anyway."

* * *

Eric found himself sharing a limo with Sookie, Bill, Magneto, Sabretooth and Juggernaut. If it had been up to him, he would have been sharing the limo with different people —he'd been thinking of the metamorph; there were so many things he could have done with her in a spacious limo— but as it were, she was still in Shreveport, setting up a satellite feed so that they could keep Pam abreast of the happenings in New Orleans. Later, she was going to bring the jet down. The other mutants from the school had chosen to ride together, and there had been a mutual agreement that the two vampires should keep an eye on the two new mutants. He and Bill sat on either side of Sookie, so at least there was _some_ pleasant company, and he wasn't talking about Compton.

* * *

Sookie was glad that they had arrived, not because the palace looked great and she was tired, but because she could finally get out of that limo. It had been uncomfortable to say the very least, sitting with two antagonistic vampires on either side of her and watching those three mutants. Actually, Magneto had been rather low key, so he hadn't made her too nervous, but the other two had more than made up for it. If Sabretooth and Juggernaut were what Logan and the others had to deal with on a daily basis, then those other mutants were really quite worthy of her respect. Throughout the ride to the palace, all she had been getting had been thoughts about how much Sabretooth would have loved to carry him over her shoulder into a dingy trailer and fuck her until she screamed. It had not been a comforting thing to see, and the Sabretooth had been a very clear broadcaster. He might have been Logan's brother, but he could not be further from Logan in character. If Eric and Bill hadn't been in the limo with her, there would have been no knowing what could have happened. Actually, she could guess, and she was all the more grateful for the presence of the two vampires, even if she did think one of them was a world class arseholef.

Marie caught her eye as she stepped out of the limo. She looked as if she'd had a good time, catching up with all her friends. At least she had the decency to look ashamed for abandoning her and with two vampires and three not-so-nice people with superpowers. She mouthed an apology at her. Sookie decided her cousin could make up for it later.

At first glance, all they could see were vast grounds surrounded by hedges that had been trimmed to look like fantastical creatures. She could make out the silhouette of a unicorn, a centaur, and something that looked like a giant skink. Later, she found out that it was supposed to be a Chinese dragon. A guard stopped them at the entrance —beneath an arch made of greenery— and searched them one by one for silver and stakes. She caught a brief flash of Logan's thoughts, as he was right behind her. He wanted to stick up his middle claw at the guards. Oh, she'd pay a million dollars —that would be a million dollars that she didn't have in her bank account— to see Logan give the 'claw' to the vampire guards, who didn't look like they'd know a joke if one bit them in the behind.

The vampires were rather taken aback by Sabretooth's flash of fang. Apparently, they weren't used to non-vampires having fangs.

Having established that no one intended to assassinate the queen, the guards led through a maze of hedges that were twice as tall as Sabretooth and a rose garden before they stopped in front of a mansion that had a moat around it. It wasn't one of those castle moats. No, this one had water lilies and sculptures in it. The statues showed men in the middle of morphing into wolves and bears and even giant cats. They looked as if they were either in pain or ecstasy. Sometimes, the line between the two blurred, especially if one's lover was a vampire.

As they had neared the mansion, Bill had grown increasingly tenser. She might not have been able to read his mind, but she didn't need to see his thoughts to tell that he was nervous about something. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He did not seem reassured. There were more vampires waiting for them, for their arrival had been expected.

"Her Majesty is waiting within," said a vampire who had been turned when he had been barely an adult. Sookie judged him to have been sixteen at the most. However, there was a cruel glint in his eyes that looked alien in that young face, making him look possessed.

"I trust Her Majesty is well, Andre?" said Eric.

"As always," said the vampire called Andre. He turned on his heel after indicating that they should follow. There were a few slabs of marble in the moat which formed a bridge with no rails. On either side was clear water. The moat wasn't terribly deep, but deep enough to drown someone in. There were lights at the bottom, illuminating the water. A few sleepy red carp swam, their fins and tails fanning, completely unaware that they were surrounded by some of the best predators the world had ever seen.

The queen's residence didn't resemble a palace so much as it did a Hollywood star's mansion, multiplied ten times. There was a false colonnade along the rounded walls. The windows had been filled in with stucco and concrete, and there were lights everywhere, even though vampires could see perfectly well in the dark. She supposed the lights did make the house look good, although the electrical bill must have been astounding. It wasn't as if power prices were decreasing.

The double doors opened to reveal a foyer that was larger than her dining room and living room combined. If there had been any doubt that this was a royal residence, it was gone now. The walls were covered with paintings of little medieval farming communities, depicting rural life, or what rural life had been a very long time ago. "Monet," said the vampire called Andre, making Sookie jump. "Good, but not quite good enough." He ran his tongue over his teeth as he stared at her like she was some tasty morsel waiting to be sampled, and she didn't like it one bit. She stepped closer to Bill, although something was going on with her boyfriend —manfriend?— because he wasn't reacting the way he ought to in the face of another vampire trying to take his girl. Instead, he let Andre leer. Logan was reacting however, and she had to wonder if he was thinking particularly hard so that she would be able to tell he was more than willing to cut off the head of whatever vampire who wanted to touch her without her permission.

"Come," said Andre, as if he hadn't started talking about art all of a sudden. "The Queen is growing impatient. She is in the Sun Room."

* * *

**A/N: **I have almost finished the next chapter and I will post that soon. I'd love to get onto the politics, but there are so many different things to explore. I will get there, though; I promise.


	16. In His Shoes

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 16: In His Shoes**

There was not a lot of sun in the Sun Room, although the vampires were trying to replicate sunlight, judging by the number of lights in the room and the temperature. There was a pool in the centre, like one of those giant Roman baths. Logan glared at everything and anything. If he were an animal, his hackles would be fully raised. There were vampires, and there were vampires. These were _not _the sort he wanted as allies. Most of them looked like they wanted a taste of mutant blood, or Sookie blood, depending on the vampire, and the queen had her face buried in a young woman's thigh as she greedily sucked blood from the femoral artery. The red liquid dripped onto the otherwise pristine marble floor and pooled there. He wondered about the Queen of New York. She'd seemed more...professional. Of course, he'd only spoken to her on the phone, but still. The fact that _she_'d called him was something significant.

"At last," said the queen. Her voice was sweet, but there was something off about it. It made Logan want to growl. She lifted her head from the girl's thigh. One of her attendants, a giant of a vampire with very many missing teeth, handed her a towel to clean her face with. The white cloth came away red. Another attendant, this one a woman, gave her a lipstick and a mirror. The Queen carefully recoloured her mouth before turning around to face her guests.

She was pretty, he guessed, with fiery hair and alabaster skin that had been touched up with make-up. Her hair was cut in a coif that resembled the hairstyles of old-fashioned movie stars. "I had thought your plane had crashed," she said, holding out her hand to Northman, who kissed it gallantly. The Wolverine wondered if she expected everyone to do the same. If she wanted him to kiss her hand, she could kiss his arse. He wasn't bowing down to royalty, not English, not vampire, not any royalty.

"We were delayed by complications at the airport, Your Majesty," he said.

"Airports," said the Queen with a sniff. "Loathsome things." She lost interest in the sheriff and stepped up to Bill. "Mr. Compton," she said.

"Your Majesty," said Bill, bowing low before he, too, kissed the Queen's small manicured hand. She smiled at him, but her eyes were already on the next person.

"Miss Stackhouse," said Sophie-Ann, drawing out the syllables of Sookie's name. "I have heard so much about you."

* * *

Sookie didn't know what to say. The queen knew about her, a barmaid from Bon Temps? How was she supposed to react? She'd never met royalty before. Heck, the closest to royalty she'd ever been had been old Mrs. Caroline Bellefleur. But Sophie-Ann was in a different league altogether. Even _Eric_ had to show her respect. "I'm flattered, Your Majesty," she said, dipping an awkward curtsey. She'd pulled that line from a historical novel she'd just finished.

Sophie-Ann laughed. "You are such a sweet thing," she said. "I shall enjoy getting to know you better." That did not make the telepath feel very secure. For one of the few times in her life, she wished she could read vampire minds. She was very relieved when the queen moved on, distracted by the presence of the mutants.

"Your majesty," said Eric before the queen could make some remark. "These are the mutants I mentioned to you. They wish to enter into an alliance with us."

"You said they would be useful," said Sophie-Ann. "But they don't look particularly impressive to me."

"Appearances can be deceiving, your majesty, as you well know," said Eric. He indicated Logan. "This is the man who first approached me, and he proved himself to be worthy of our attention in Dallas."

"Yes, Dallas," said Sophie-Ann disdainfully. "I still have not forgiven you for not telling me beforehand, Sheriff, but I trust you will make it up to me pretty soon." She'd already turned to Logan before Eric could say anything. "My Sheriff seems to think a great deal of you," she said. "What's your name?"

"The name's Logan Howlett," said Logan. That was as polite as he was about to get. He was very unhappy with the way she was treating him, as if he was some subordinate of hers, which he definitely was not. They were supposed to be here to negotiate as equals, and yet the queen was behaving as if she was, well, their queen.

"And what can you do?" said the queen, as if she was talking to a very small child. _That_ definitely did not sit well with the Wolverine.

"This," he said, and he flicked out his middle claw.

This was going to be the most colourful diplomatic mission she'd ever witnessed in her life. In an instant, Andre was standing before the queen in a defensive position, his lips curled back in a ferocious snarl. Logan was snarling right back, and Sabretooth was doing the same, although he seemed to be much too happy about the prospect of a fight. Sookie could practically taste his bloodlust. Killing turned him on. It made her feel sick.

It seemed as if there would be an all out war there and then. She could hear someone thinking about how many vampires he could take out with one fireball, another wondering about how effective ice was against vampires, and Magneto wondering if he could get Logan under control by force. The vampires were snarling and getting into battle stance, with the exception of Bill, who seemed to be at a complete loss as to what to do.

"You know what?" said Logan. "Forget about an alliance, Your Majesty. I ain't goin' into an alliance with someone who treats us like the dirt on the bottom of her satin stiletto. The Queen of New York made an irresistible offer, and I'm seriously considerin' it."

"Sybille Royale?" hissed Sophie-Ann.

* * *

Hadn't he told Howlett specifically _not_ to mention Sibylla? He remembered telling him that more than just one, and yet the mutant had gone ahead and talked about the Queen of New York anyway. In fact, he was still talking about her. "I saw her on MSNBC durin' the plane ride, talkin' about her sponsorship of a newly opened hospital for underprivileged children," continued Howlett. He had to know that he was making Sophie-Ann furious. It suddenly occurred to Eric that Logan Howlett was not as simple as he had first seemed. He was throwing in Sibylla's name to get a rise out of Sophie-Ann and perhaps to make her work harder towards securing the mutants' friendship by letting her know that her rival was more than willing to be gracious and accommodating.

Sophie-Ann regained her composure quickly, and gave the Wolverine a particularly toothy smile. "Sybille has always been...personable," said Sophie-Ann. Eric wouldn't have put it quite like that, but Sibylla was a diplomat, and an excellent one at that. She understood the importance of public image and she used her appearances in the media well, which was probably why New Yorkers did not have the same degree of anti-vampire sentiments as some people from some of the other states. "But with her, you never know where you're at."

"Oh yeah?" said Howlett. "I think I know exactly where we're at with you, an' I'm not likin' it."

"I do not have a great understanding of mutants," said Sophie-Ann, almost sounding apologetic. To inexperienced humans, she might even have sounded sincere. Like all politicians, she was an excellent actor. "You will have to forgive my ignorance, Mr. Howlett." Perhaps the Wolverine's plan was working after all. Eric knew his queen, and she was seriously reconsidering the importance of the mutants, now that she knew Sibylla wanted them.

The mutants were still suspicious; it wasn't so hard for Eric to tell, but at least they weren't talking about pledging their allegiance to New York anymore, which was a very good thing, because he really wasn't sure how much more Sophie-Ann could take. It would be the understatement of the millennium to say that the two queens loathed one another irrationally.

* * *

All in all, the first meeting hadn't gone quite as badly as she'd expected. The Queen had behaved much more cordially after Logan had mentioned the other Queen, despite having been told numerous times not to mention her. Marie had a feeling that he'd done it on purpose. People thought he was simple, but when he put his mind to it, Logan was a complicated man with the most unexpected ideas. Sometimes, she doubted his sanity, although perhaps his unpredictability was simply one of his charms. They had talked for a while. Eric had briefly mentioned their powers to Sophie-Ann and he spent remarkably little time on her powers, although that was to be expected. She didn't see what use killer skin could be. It wasn't as if the vampires couldn't do their own killing themselves.

It was a relief when Sophie-Ann had ordered some of her vampires to take her guests to their rooms. The negotiations were to begin tomorrow, since she wanted to consult with Eric, and it was so close to dawn. A few of her attendants —vampire ones— had taken them to their suites, which were windowless, but grand. There was a giant four poster bed with satin sheets in lilac. Curtains hung where a window ought to be. They were drawn. The walls were cream, and there were sculptures on them. They weren't like Roman frescoes, which told a story, simply leaves and vines and flowers and the like. Still, it was a very impressive room. At the end of the bed was a coffer. Marie put what she had brought with her into that. There wasn't much, as she hadn't expected to stay long.

There was a knock on her door just as she was getting out of her uniform. "Rogue?" said Bobby on the other side. "Can we talk?"

"Just a minute!" She quickly tossed on a robe and tied it securely around her and then pulled on a pair of sweatpants before opening the door. There was a moment of awkward silence. Bobby's Adam's Apple was moving up and down, and he didn't seem to know where to look. "Do you wanna come in?" she asked.

"Uh...sure," he said. She went and sat down on the edge of her bed, and he perched on one of the chairs in the room.

"So..." she began. She'd never spoken to Bobby much after they'd decided to break up, and right now, she was reminded of the reason why she hadn't talked to him. It was just so awkward. Neither of them knew how to behave around the other when they were alone. It was better when they were with company, since they could just joke and talk to the other people.

"You look better," said Bobby. "I mean, not that you didn't look good before, but you look even better now."

"Thanks," she said. "You're not so bad yourself." Bobby laughed nervously.

"Hey, listen," he said. "Since you left...um...well...Kitty and I...but Kitty said..."

"Kitty said she wouldn't go out with you unless she got the okay from me, right?" Typical Kitty. Always so cautious.

"Yeah," said Bobby, looking embarrassed. "We thought it would be a bad idea to talk over the phone about it, and we were waiting for you to come back home to New York, but then you decided to stay in Louisiana, so..."

"Well, it's okay," she said. "I get it, and it's fine, really."

"You're not mad that we didn't tell you sooner?"

"Well...I am a bit annoyed, but I'll get over it. We need to move on."

"I thought you already had." Was it just her, or was Bobby sounding a little bit envious.

"I think we've both started to move on," said Marie.

"Some of us are better at it, I guess," said the boy with a not-very-amused grin. "But Rogue, you gotta make sure you're...um...well...you know...err...it could be dangerous..."

"Bobby, what are you talking about?"

Bobby balked. "Nothin'," he said. He got up. "So...um...I think I'm gonna turn in. Night!" He got out of her room so quickly that if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was a vampire. She shut the door behind her and was about to take off her robe and climb into bed when there was another knock on the door. What was it with her and visitors tonight? She hoped it wasn't Bobby coming back with some afterword. The initial conversation had been awkward enough.

She went and opened the door again, and the last person she had expected was standing there. He, apparently, hadn't expected to see her in only a thin robe, although he looked delightfully surprised. Marie was not half as happy as he was. She pulled her robe more tightly around herself, very thankful that it was knee length. He let his gaze travel down from her face to her—she wasn't going to think about that— before bringing his eyes up to hers again. "I need you to run a few errands for me in the morning," he said. "I'd promised Pam that I'd let her come to New Orleans this week for the annual sales at Saks Fifth Avenue, but since she can't be here for obvious reasons, you are going to the sales on her behalf."

Since when did her job description include being Pam's personal shopper? Although, seeing as Eric hadn't brought Bobby Durnham with him, she was his only human employee who was present at the moment, and she really didn't mind shopping. Not at all. "Are there any specifics that she wants?"

Eric handed her a list, written in an elegant script. It wasn't his, so Marie thought it had to be Pam's. Modern humans didn't write like that anymore. Shoes were at the very top, along with the size. No synthetic materials apart from the soles of shoes. She wanted either silk or cotton or cashmere. Eric held out an envelope towards her. A very thick envelope. "There's four thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars in there," he said. "Two hundred and fifty dollars are yours —your pay for the week. Keep the receipts and bring me back the remaining cash. I'll know if you've taken any extra."

"Eric, I'm not dumb enough to steal from a vampire, and especially not you," she said as she took the envelope gingerly. Big amounts of money made her very nervous. The last time she'd held such a big wad of cash, she'd been running away from home and not knowing whether she'd live through the year.

"I like to be careful," said the vampire. "I wouldn't let you run errands for me if I didn't trust you enough."

"Should I be flattered or frightened?"

"What do you think, Miss D'Ancanto?" He was checking her out again. She moved behind the door slightly. His grin widened, although his fangs weren't showing. "Have a good night," he said, and then he was gone. Vampires.

* * *

Bill was emerging as Eric approached the solar. "She's waiting," said the younger vampire, giving the Sheriff a brusque nod. The Viking inclined his head just slightly in return and didn't even bother speaking to him. Bill was beneath a spoken greeting, and if it hadn't been for Sookie, he'd hardly have paid Compton much heed at all. No, no one had _ever_ called him humble before, neither in life nor in undeath.

The queen was lounging on her white leather chaise, or what would have been a white chaise, except for the blood smeared all over the creamy leather. There was a delighted human girl standing behind her with blood running down her leg. Such a sight did not shock Eric. Hardly anything shocked him anymore. "Your majesty," he said as he swept a low courtly bow, one which he'd learned from his Frankish brother. The Franks cared a lot for etiquette, and an eastern Frank cared even more.

"Come, sit," said Sophie-Ann, indicating one of the straight-backed chairs nearby. The furniture was a clear indication of the power structure. Eric did as he was asked. "I have a request to make of you, Sheriff," she said. "The IRS has been bothering me, and I find myself unable to stave off their approaches."

"Why have they been bothering you, my queen?" asked Eric.

"I may owe them some money, which is why I need you to do something for me."

* * *

Sookie took a deep breath. She had no idea what she was doing. Technically, this wasn't even her business. 'But it is your business, Sookie Stackhouse,' she told herself. 'He deserves to know, and you're the only one who can tell him.' She rapped sharply on the white wooden door. "Just a minute!" called the voice from within. Moments later, Logan stood at the open door, without a shirt. Curly dark wiry hair was sprinkled over his well-defined pectorals and abs. He could give Eric a run for his money in the muscle department. Now, Sookie might have been in love with Bill Compton, but she was a healthy heterosexual woman, and the sight of the Wolverine clad in nothing but those tight pants from his uniform was...well.

"Hey, Sookie," said Logan, clearly confused as to why she was here. He wasn't so confused as to why she was staring at him like that, though. Like vampires, he could smell the hormones in people's sweat. Damn. "You need somethin'?"

'Focus, Sookie,' she told herself. She had come to tell him something important, not stare at his pecs. "Logan, can I talk to you for a moment?" she said.

He looked confused. That wasn't new. Ever since she'd met him, she'd seen that confused look plenty of times. It was kinda cute. "Sure," he said. "Come on in. Sorry about the mess." He stepped away from the door to let her through. Somehow, although he could only have been in the room for an hour, it looked like a hurricane had ripped through New Orleans again. Clothes were strewn everywhere. "I was lookin' for my boxers," he said. Sookie swallowed. Did he _have _to say that? "It turns out I forgot to pack any."

"Uh, Logan?" said Sookie. "Too much information." If he was embarrassed, he didn't show it, and his mind was much more difficult to read than a regular human's. In fact, she could say that he was even more difficult to read than Sam. The only times she'd read his mind was when she'd concentrated, and when he'd let her.

"So, what was it you came to talk to me about, again?" asked Logan. He crossed his arms and leaned against the now closed door, waiting for her to speak.

"I saw your brother," Sookie blurted out. Oops. Perhaps she should have been a little more tactful. The poor guy had, after all, lost his memories.

"'Scuse me?" said Logan. "What brother?"

"You have a brother, Logan," said Sookie, more slowly this time. "I heard his thoughts, or rather, I saw them. He's in this house."

"Do you know who it is?" His arms were uncrossed now, and he was tense. She could sense the mess of emotions inside him; he was definitely not trying to hide how he was feeling. They were plainly written on his face too.

"Yeah," she said, "but you're not going to like it."

"Come on, Sookie," said Logan. "You gotta tell me now. I ain't one to deny reality, no matter how much I might not like it."

"All right, then," said Sookie. "Although you've gotta promise me you won't do anything rash."

"I promise," said Logan, "now spit it out."

"It's Sabretooth."

* * *

She was going to get him killed. Selling vampire blood? If the magister ever got wind of that, he'd be a pile of ashes, and so would she. "Who's going to find out if you don't tell, Northman?" said Sophie-Ann.

"Your majesty, this is madness," he said. "Perhaps you can borrow some—"

"I've already borrowed so much that they won't let me borrow anymore, Northman," said Sophie-Ann. She didn't sound worried at all. Perhaps she thought that her status was going to protect her. "This is a great investment, believe me. I don't even have to put any capital into it." Eric wasn't so sure, and he was about to try and dissuade her, but she held up a finger to silence him. "I am your queen, Eric Northman, and you will do as I have asked," she said. "If not, you will be committing treason, and I will find someone more worthy of your position."

He suppressed the urge to snarl. He served her out of respect, and because he believed in upholding the law. "As Your Majesty wishes," he said. He had no choice.

* * *

Fucking hell, _Sabretooth_? "Are you sure?" he asked Sookie. She had to be wrong. She just had to be. No way in the world could he be related to Sabretooth. They didn't even have any similarities! Well, apart from the claws, and the healing powers, and the bad tempers.

"I'm sorry, Logan," she said, "but I'm pretty sure. I saw an image of you both in Asia somewhere, and you were holding a machine gun. There was a woman, and he was about to..." she trailed off.

Logan sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face with his hands. He was too tired for this, he didn't need it. He hated Sabretooth, but Sabretooth was his brother. He hated his brother. He was going around in circles. The Wolverine tried to shut down his mind. That didn't work. "Look," he said. "I appreciate you tellin' me, Sookie. I really do, but I'd appreciate it even more if you didn't tell anybody."

"I wasn't going to," said Sookie. She sounded a little defensive. Had he insulted her? He suddenly felt a little bit guilty. She'd probably thought she was doing him a favour, and here he was, being completely ungrateful about it. He didn't know what he hated more; not being able to remember, or remembering something he absolutely hated. "I know how to keep secrets, Logan. You can trust me."

"I know I can, kid," said Logan, forcing himself to smile. He hoped he looked friendly, and not predatory. Marie had once told him that when he forced himself to smile, he looked like a leopard about to pounce on a gazelle. "And, if any of those vampires start botherin' you, please tell me. I feel like loppin' someone's head off."

* * *

Pam loved her new shoes, as Marie had thought she would. They were having a video chat, Pam, her and Eric. She wasn't entirely comfortable, being alone in a room with Eric, but this wasn't the first time she'd done that, and he was her boss, so she hadn't been able to say no when he'd asked her to set up a video chat. "Really, Pam," said Eric. He looked a little bit disgusted at the one and a half thousand dollar pair of shoes with twelve inch heels that Marie and Jubilee had spent half an hour at the store fighting for. "They are truly hideous. They look like lobster claws."

"Eric, they're works of art," said Pam, still staring at the infamous Alexander McQueen 'hoof' shoes as if she wanted to kiss them, or something. "I don't expect you to understand—"

"No, I don't," said Eric. "And it's my one and a half thousand dollars."

"No," said Pam. "You promised me a pair of shoes."

"Yes, but these are hooves."

"If you say so," said Pam. "They're still mine. Can I have that girl as my personal assistant?"

"You do not need a personal assistant, Pamela," said Eric.

"I do," said Pam. "You know the bar is busy, and she has excellent taste."

"I'll think about it," said Eric. He'd probably already decided, but as always, he was going to make them wait for his verdict. He turned to her, at that moment. "Leave us," he said. "My child and I have things to discuss."

"And leave the shoes," said Pam. "I want to look at them."

Marie resisted the urge to curtsey and call him 'milord'. He'd probably love it, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it, even if she was being sarcastic.

* * *

He was worried. No, more than worried. Eric Northman had never been frantic, save for once in his human life, but he was pretty close now. Well, as close to frantic as he could ever be. "The queen wants you to _what_?" said Pam, as if he was playing a joke on her. He wished it were a joke. It wouldn't be a particularly funny joke, but at least it wouldn't make him feel...well, ill. "Eric, you can't."

"I have to," he said. "The queen ordered me."

"If anyone finds out—" began Pam.

"I know, Pamela," said Eric, cutting her off. "Therefore, no one can find out. Do we know any drug dealers in the area?"

"I've heard of one," said Pam. "He lives in Sookie's town, I think, and rumour had it that he could have been dealing V, but they were just rumours, and we never got the chance to follow up on them."

"Find all the dealers," said Eric. "Bribe them, threaten them, promise them clemency for their past crimes, I don't care. I need them to sell the blood as soon as it reaches Shreveport. The first shipment arrives within a week."

"I'll be honest with you, Eric," said Pam. "I don't like this. It's beyond any of us. We need help."

"And who will help us?"

"What about..." She let her voice trail off. Eric knew exactly who she meant, and there was no way in the world he was going to ask his brother to help him twice in one century. He loathed being indebted to anyone, and if he ever let Balian hear of this, Balian would be sure to tell Sibylla. They were family, after all, and Balian was a man who truly believed in the sanctity of family. Then Sibylla would use this information to somehow gain a foothold in Louisiana, or perhaps even overthrow Sophie-Ann; the Queen of New York was more than capable of doing that. She had the manpower, and what she didn't have, she could buy. That woman owned the majority of shares in a petroleum company.

"No," said Eric. "Out of the question." He had other allies, of course, the latest being the mutants, but he didn't trust any of them enough to let them in on the secret. No, he would just have to make it on his own, as he always had.

* * *

**A/N: **I love the V storyline so I had to put it in there. And if anyone is wondering how a pair of shoes can inspire so much disgust in our dear Sheriff, plug 'Alexander McQueen hoof shoes' into Google images, look at the first picture, and you'll know what Eric meant.


	17. Diplomatic Solutions

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 17: Diplomatic Solutions**

She cradled her cup of tea in her hands; the warmth comforted her somewhat, but it could not drive away the discomfort that Marie was feeling right now. The Queen wanted the mutants to be _her_ mutants. Logan, quite rightly, wanted an equal partnership and autonomy. He also wanted an alliance with the highest vampire authority, not just with Louisiana. "What's the point of havin' an alliance with just Louisiana if I'm in New York?" he was asking. It was a valid point, although the vampires present didn't seem to think so.

"You contacted _my_ Sheriff, Mr. Howlett," said the Queen, as if she was running on the last of her patience. All the while, she was stroking the hair of a young woman sitting at her feet and gazing up at her with so much adoration that one could have easily mistaken her for a Chihuahua. That was exactly what Sophie-Ann expected humans and mutants to be; loyal dogs at her beck and call. Too bad for her, Logan was the Wolverine, and he had the temper of one.

"Look," he said. "When I thought of this alliance, I really meant for it to be an alliance, not an employment contract. We help you out when you need it, and you help us out when we need it. I made that quite clear when I talked to Northman about it."

"But I'm in charge here, Mr. Howlett," said Sophie-Ann. "My Sheriff cannot negotiate the terms of this treaty. I am Queen."

"Yeah, an' we ain't your subjects."

"Your Majesty," said Eric, "If I may, what we need is indeed an ally in the face of growing adversity from the humans. With their modern weaponry and technological advances, it will not be difficult for them to give us a run for our money. With them in New York and us in Louisiana, we will have more control than if they stayed here as employees."

"I do not share power, Eric," said Sophie-Ann. "You should know that."

"Every successful monarch in history has shared power at some point," said Eric. There seemed to be something going on between him and the Queen. "Look at what alliances have done for the Sicilian, Your Majesty. His territory stretches to the extent of the old Roman Empire."

Sophie-Ann looked as if she was about to make a rebuttal, but then she thought about it for a little longer and seemed to change her mind. "Perhaps you're right, Sheriff," she said, "but I would expect my allies not to make deals with other vampires without letting me know."

"An' I would expect you to let us know about the other mutants who you get in touch with," said Logan. "An' I'd also expect your senate or congress or whatever the hell it is that you have to acknowledge mutants as bein' allies and therefore not to be kidnapped or used or whatever without their permission."

"You don't have an organized system to control other mutants," said the Queen.

"We could," said Magneto. "It wouldn't be so difficult just to spread the news. There are mutant communities everywhere, all we need to do is unite them." Magneto was very fond of uniting people under his banner. After all, he was the mutant version of Osama bin Laden. He was just better at wreaking havoc and he also had willing accomplices who were good at hacking. Well, he used to have a willing accomplice who was now teaching IT classes at Xavier's Institute.

"Think about it, Your Majesty." The way he said it made the title sound like an insult. Magneto leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "You are completely helpless during the day, and the fanatics, from what I've seen, are determined to end you. If you agree to our terms, which ensure our autonomy and makes sure that all vampires are aware of this arrangement between mutants and your kind, we all benefit."

"Yeah," said Logan. "I know those fundies are drainin' vamps and sellin' their blood to fund their activities, so we can sniff out those drug rings and deal with them. It's much better when you're not limited durin' daylight hours, believe me."

"What makes you think vampires are not capable of dealing with the V trade themselves?" asked Sophie-Ann.

* * *

This was a disaster. On the surface, it would have been helpful to have allies who were capable of taking down the Fellowship of the Sun and their V trade, but now that _he _was forced to sell V, Eric wasn't sure he wanted allies who were probably going to be able to find out what he was doing. Or, perhaps Pam was right. He did need help, although not from the people she'd thought of. Either way, he was on dangerous ground, and so was the queen. The fewer people who knew, the better, but if someone else had to know, he'd rather they be someone who was more likely to help him than betray him. He just didn't know for certain whether the mutants were not going to sell him out. Howlett and Marie probably wouldn't, but he couldn't say the same for the others.

They worked out some conditions. It was not a done deal, but at least they were making some progress. Sophie-Ann really wanted mutants who could sniff out drug rings to be on her side rather than another vampire's, like Sibylla's. The mutants drove a hard bargain, as he'd expected them to. They were really very powerful, with their range of skills, and of course, Logan was nephilim, not that he knew the significance of that. Eric wasn't about to tell him unless it was absolutely vital that he knew, lest he get any ideas. The Wolverine had a high enough opinion of himself already.

Howlett looked quite pleased with himself. Everyone, including Eric, had made the mistake of thinking that he was simple, but he really wasn't. Then again, it had been stupid to think that a nephilim could be...well, stupid. Then again, no idiot would have been able to survive for as long as Howlett had, not with what he'd been through, which had somehow included collapsing nuclear reactors. He'd have to ask Remy LeBeau about that. "Fine," said Sophie-Ann at last. "We will be allies, and you will have your autonomy, and I will bring your request before the American Vampire League and the High Council, but I want something in return."

"Yeah?" said the Wolverine. He was looking much too smug. Perhaps he was overestimating his abilities.

"I want the telepath."

"What?" It wasn't hard to tell that Howlett had not expected that. "Sookie ain't for sale!"

Sophie-Ann turned to Bill, who looked down at the floor.

"Come on, Bill," said the Wolverine. "She's your girl. Say somethin'!" Bill said nothing, which only made Howlett more frustrated. Eric was a little surprised that Bill wasn't leaping to Sookie's defence like he tended to do when _he_ expressed an interest in the telepath. Sookie looked at her vampire, completely confused as to why he wasn't reacting.

"Fine," said the Wolverine, who grew tired of waiting. "I'll say it for you, Compton. She. Ain't. For. Sale. And if you try to take her, I'll be callin' New York."

Sophie-Ann leapt from her seat, her face twisted in a terrible snarl. Her fangs glistened in the artificial light. Gone was the graceful beauty that she had greeted them with. She was pure predator now. It was too bad for her that Howlett was also a top predator. Perhaps he was even higher up on the food chain, considering he was angel spawn, and archangel spawn at that. "I could rip out your throat right now," she hissed.

"And I can rip off your head, bitch," Logan snarled right back. If it had been in his nature, Eric might have even cringed.

"If I may interrupt," said Magneto, doing just that. "A telepath is only useful when they willingly work for you."

"And what would you know about it, old man?" asked Sophie-Ann. Her fangs were still out, and she was still concentrating on her staring contest with the Wolverine.

"I've dealt with some of the most powerful telepaths the world has ever known," said Magneto. "You may have heard of what happened on Alcatraz Island last year?"

Of course they'd heard of it. They'd been wondering what had caused it. An entire bridge had been ripped up and moved. Humans had been turned into dust. The government had kept everything under wraps, and the vampires who had their fingers in the government had kept suspiciously silent about it. Eric had tried getting Sibylla to tell him, because she probably knew, but she denied having any inside knowledge. Some said that the _djinn_ from the Middle East had finally made it over to the New World. Others accredited it to an unknown supernatural force.

"That was a telepath?" said Sophie-Ann.

"She was telekinetic too," said Magneto. "But that is beside the point. The point is, I know about telepaths, and you would be wise to take my advice, Your Majesty."

"And what is your advice?" asked the Queen. Her fangs retracted, and she recomposed herself on her chaise.

"Very simple," said Magneto. "Let the girl do what she wants, and hire her when you need her."

"That is a very good suggestion, Your Majesty," said Eric. He certainly didn't want the Queen to have possession of Sookie. It would make her much too powerful. He didn't like monarchs who were too powerful, because that definitely limited his freedom.

"And what do you say, William Compton?" asked the Queen.

"I agree with Sheriff Northman and Mr. Lensherr, Your Majesty," said Bill. It was the first time he'd spoken during the entire night.

* * *

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sookie demanded. They were in their room and she'd just shut the door behind her. Now she leaned against the wood and folded her arms across her chest. Bill looked at his shoes, unwilling or unable to say anything. "Bill Compton, if you don't answer my question, I am walking out of this door so you won't have to answer."

"Sookie, please," said Bill. "I..." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Go on," she said.

"She is my queen." That was not an adequate excuse for his behaviour tonight. Sookie exploded.

"What happened to your possessiveness? You told your sheriff that I was yours every time he even came near me! And tonight, _Logan_ had to say it for you!"

"That's different! The Queen is the highest authority, Sookie, and I cannot refuse her." He tried to reach out for her, but she jerked back.

"You're a coward, Bill Compton," she spat, and then she marched out of the room, slamming the door forcefully behind her. She didn't know where to go. The Queen had not allocated the telepath another room, having expected her to stay with Bill, or, God forbid, herself. Well, she was not going back to Bill and she was definitely not going to Sophie-Ann. She marched down the corridor and knocked on her cousin's door.

* * *

Marie let Sookie rant and rave. She needed release, and it was the least she could do for her, after everything Sookie had done. Bill had been acting a bit odd, yes, considering how possessive he usually was of Sookie, but the queen had been quite frightening, and it probably would not have made much difference to her if Bill had spoken or not.

"Do you still love him?" she asked Sookie once the older woman had finished ranting.

"That's the worst part of it," said Sookie. "I do. Marie, this might sound stupid, but he's the first man I've ever loved. I mean, you've had more romantic experience than I have."

"Hardly," said Marie. "I'm...you know. I'm a virgin."

"Sex is good, but it's not everything," said Sookie. "I like the intimacy. You must think I'm pathetic."

"No," said Marie. "I don't. Look, Sookie, stay here tonight. Get some rest, and then you can decide how you feel once you're not tired and emotional."

* * *

Hadley Stackhouse had heard that her cousin was in New Orleans, and she desperately wanted to see Sookie again, if only to ask about everyone else back home. It was nice living in the palace, and she absolutely adored Sophie-Ann, but there was a part of her that still missed sleepy little Bons Temps. How was Gran doing? How was Jason? Was he married yet? Was she going to have some cute little second cousins? From what she'd heard, one of the Queen's vampires, Bill Compton, had been romancing her telepathic cousin, and she really wanted to find out if this was true. When they'd been kids, Sookie had always been the odd one out because of her ability to read people's minds. Hadley hadn't understood that at all; she'd always thought that Sookie's powers were kinda cool and she desperately wished that she had some sort of power to make her stick out amongst all the other humans living in the Queen's residence. Sure, she was Sophie-Ann's favourite human at the moment, but she felt really bad when the Queen fed from others, and there were many many others.

For some strange reason, she wasn't allowed out of her room. Andre had said that it was on the Queen's orders. Hadley didn't really like Andre, but she tried to be nice to him because the Queen loved him. It was creepy, the way his tongue kept out as if to taste the air, like a rattlesnake's. They said he could identify any human by just smelling them or licking their skin, although he seldom stopped there. He had a huge appetite. Sometimes, he was allowed to share Sophie-Ann's humans. He'd fed from Hadley once or twice, and it had hurt.

The young woman paced the length of the room, her bare feet making a faint slapping sound against the cool marble floor. Her room was really nice. The Queen had let her decorate it however she'd wanted it, and she'd gone with a red feature wall and white walls all around. It reminded her of the queen; blood red lips and ivory skin. She heard her door open, and the Queen slipped in, as beautiful as always. Her cheeks were pink, indicating that she'd already fed. "Hello, Hadley darling," she said. Her voice always did strange things to Hadley.

"Your majesty," said Hadley, quickly dipping a curtsey. She wondered who the queen had fed from tonight. It was supposed to be her turn. "Did you enjoy your meal?"

"Not as much as I would have liked," said Sophie-Ann, gliding over to the bed and casting herself upon the red sateen sheets. She was wearing white, as always. The Queen liked white, and it was a colour that suited her well. Hadley remembered long ago reading in some magazine that wearing white made people look fat, and that white pants weren't supposed to be worn after Labour Day. Sophie-Ann broke all those rules and looked fabulous while doing so. She patted the bed, inviting the human to join her. Hadley gladly did so, and she tilted her head back, not just so she could see Sophie-Ann more clearly, but also to offer her neck.

"Oh, Hadley," said Sophie-Ann. "You are a sweet thing, just like your cousin."

"When can I see her?" asked Hadley. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," said the Queen with a wave of her hand. "But no, darling, you can't see her."

"Why?"

"What did I say about asking too many questions?" Sophie-Ann was still smiling, but her voice carried an obvious warning tone. Hadley shrank back, not wanting to make the Queen angry.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she whispered.

"Good girl," said Sophie-Ann. She reached out to stroke Hadley's hair. It felt good. She closed her eyes to enjoy it better. The Queen's touches were soft. She moaned as a cool finger gently traced circles on her neck. "I promise you'll be able to see her soon, and then you will have so much to talk about, won't you?"

* * *

She was hungry; she'd been too nervous to eat during dinner, with all the vampires sitting there drinking their blood directly from willing human donors. That, and watching Sabretooth shovel food down his throat as if he were a bear who had just woken up from hibernation _while_ the vampires had been drinking, although, come to think of it, Sabretooth's eating habits had put a few vampires off their food, Bill being one of those.

Now she crept through the corridors, looking for the kitchens. She could probably order room service, but she really didn't want to ask a vampire for anything. Pretty much most of the vampires in the Queen's court freaked her out. Perhaps the adrenaline had made her unable to think clearly, because in retrospect, wandering around in a mansion full of vampires at night had definitely been one of the stupidest ideas she'd ever had, and she'd had a few idiotic ideas in the past.

As it was, it was impossible for a human guest to go unnoticed. After all, she was food, and she had no vampire. She didn't have claws either, nor did she have the ability to throw fire or something. All in all, she was just a wee bit more vulnerable than the others. Just a bit.

Before she knew it, she was facing the Queen's favourite lieutenant, and one of _her_ least favourite people on earth. Although she'd known Andre for all of forty-eight hours, she knew he was bad news, and doubly bad news when she was alone with him. "Well," he said. His tongue darted out from between his teeth, and his fangs extended with a click. "What do we have here?"

Marie held her hands in front of her in a defensive position, knowing that he could probably crush her before her skin would leech out enough of his life force. This power really sucked. Literally.

Her throat suddenly became as dry as a desert. She tried to swallow her fear, or at least keep it from showing on her face, although she then realized that Andre could probably smell it anyway. The vampire took a step forward. His fangs glistened in the artificial lighting, making them all the more menacing. And then something was blocking her view. Something big and tall and blond.

"I hope my human isn't bothering you, Andre?" said Eric.

"Oh, not at all," said Andre. "Although, I wasn't aware that she was your human. I thought she was with the mutant delegation."

"She is," said Eric. "But she's also mine, although I've yet to break her in properly." Marie really didn't like the sound of that. Break her in? Was she a horse or something? Wait, vampires had a completely different definition of 'breaking in'. It was quite a literal definition. She barely suppressed a shiver as she thought of Eric 'breaking' her in. Now was definitely not the time to think about such things.

"Then enjoy yourself, Sheriff," said Andre. His voice reminded Marie of crude oil; dark upon first glance, but hiding a myriad of corrupted tones, slick, and foul.

"I shall," said Eric. His large hand closed around her upper arm like a manacle and before she could protest, he was dragging her away back to his room. She started to struggle once she had recovered from her initial shock, but one look from the vampire convinced her that it would _not_ be a good idea. After all, he'd just saved her from being eaten, or drank, or whatever Andre had had in mind. He shoved her into his room and kicked the door closed so hard that the doorframe shook.

"What. Were. You. Thinking?" he snarled. His face was so close to hers that she could make out the different shades of blue in his irises. Blue was a colour that was supposed to represent serenity. Those eyes looked anything but serene.

"I guess I wasn't," whispered Marie.

"You got that right," said the vampire, straightening himself so that she had to tilt her head back in order to look at his face. "What possessed you to go wandering in the middle of the night in a mansion full of vampires? I thought you were a smart girl, Miss D'Ancanto. Obviously, I overestimated your intellectual activities."

"I was hungry," said Marie. That was not an adequate excuse and she knew it. "And stupid."

"I agree with you on all points," said Eric. "Now I'll have to make sure you have my scent on you, to convince them that you are mine."

"Are you going to bite me?" The words were out of her mouth before she realized how...err...provocative they were.

"Do you want me to?" Well, at least Eric didn't look mad anymore. That was an improvement.

"Not particularly, but you said I need your scent," she said. Her face was growing hot.

"You do," he said.

"So what _are_ you going to do?" she asked. Without saying a word, he handed fished out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and gave it to her.

"Carry that on your person," he said. That was unexpected. When he'd said that she needed his scent, she'd expected something with a lot more contact. Then again, she had killer skin. It wasn't as if he could touch her even if he wanted to, and why would he want to do that? She wasn't an exceptional beauty; in fact, if not for her powers, she doubted she would have anything that set her apart from all the other women in the world. She was just a normal girl with killer skin who led an extraordinary life.

"Thanks, Eric," she said as she took the folded white cotton square. "I mean it."

* * *

The end of the visit to New Orleans couldn't come soon enough. The days were all right, as it was filled with shopping and sightseeing, and absolutely no vampires, but the nights were...well, tense would be an understatement. Eric's handkerchief was the one thing keeping the fangs of other vampires off her, and she had to be on the lookout for danger twenty-four-seven. The only thing she would miss was hanging out with her friends. She watched the X-Jet disappear into the night sky, leaving her alone with her cousin and two vampires. They'd all promised to come and visit her again, and she'd also promised them that she would go back to New York soon, even if she had no plans to stay there in the foreseeable future. However, there was no set time. She really had no idea when she was going to see her friends again. While she couldn't say that she was entirely happy, she didn't regret her choice to stay behind in Louisiana. She had family now, Sookie and Jason, and Remy was in Louisiana. They'd texted every day during her stay in New Orleans. She might not have known him for very long, but she missed him, and she would be ever so glad to see him again, especially since the group she was with at the moment was not very friendly. Well, maybe they weren't unfriendly to her, but they were definitely unfriendly to one another.

They sat in silence as they waited for their flight. The plastic seats were uncomfortable. Marie looked away as a pretty young woman passionately said goodbye to her boyfriend. It wasn't that she was a prude —she wasn't; she worked at a bar that had strippers and an undead sex god— but the jealousy that welled up inside her was just a little too much after the stressful few days. She would have liked to be able to kiss someone like that, or hug someone, but the most she would ever be able to manage would be a kiss that lasted no more than three seconds, and even that would be pushing it.

Her phone started vibrating, and she took it out of her pocket, grateful for the distraction. The screen was flashing with Remy's name. She smiled. Only a few more hours before she could see him again. She didn't know why she was looking forward to it so much. Perhaps he had a warm smile and no fangs, which was a welcome difference after all the fanged smiles and snarls she had seen this week.

"Are you going to answer that?" said Eric, jolting her out of her pleasant thoughts. It wasn't that his voice was unfriendly —he sounded bored and sarcastic, the way he usually did. It was the fact that he was actually interested enough to ask. Yes, she knew he was interested in her, but enough to care about when someone was calling or texting her? "The vibration and flashing is beginning to irritate me," he said, as if he could read her mind. Right. How could she have possibly thought he was actually interested?

It was a text message —thank goodness, because she doubted she could actually speak coherently now that her boss was staring at her like that. Remy wanted to know if she was free on Wednesday night. She texted him back saying that no, because she was working that night, and she probably wouldn't have a free night this week because she had to make up for the night of the costume party. The phone beeped as she texted in her message. It took her a while; she had never gotten the hang of pressing a button rapidly several times to get the letter she wanted. Other people were so good at it; seriously, she wouldn't be surprised if everyone ended up with arthritis in their thumbs in a couple of decades.

When her message was sent, the phone display reverted back to her contact list, and Eric managed to see her list of contacts before she could stuff her phone back into her pocket. "You don't have very many contacts," he remarked. It was not a question. "I would have thought that a young woman in this day and age would have a list as long as my sword."

"And how many normal young women do you know?" asked Marie. Then she regretted her question. Eric probably knew a great deal of women, both normal and abnormal.

"Haven't you watched _Gossip Girl_?" asked the vampire, shocking her into silence.

"_You_ watch _Gossip Girl_?" Seriously, Eric looked like the last person on the planet who would watch the CW. She could better imagine Logan making deriding comments about that show than Eric sitting there smirking at it.

"On occasion," said her boss. "Pam likes it."

"Pam, I can see, but you don't strike me as the type."

"I have developed varied tastes over the centuries. What type do I strike you as?"

"The type who wouldn't be interested in teenaged girls bitching and talking about haute couture," replied Marie. "Don't get me wrong, I like the show, but it's shallow."

"I'll tell Pam what you said," said Eric. He winked at her. "I'd like to see how she reacts to being called shallow."

Marie laughed. Then she realized that she'd been joking with her boss, who was the oldest and possibly the most dangerous person she knew. She hadn't realized that it was possible for them to have a conversation that did not want to make her shiver in fear and awe. The vampire's grin only widened when he saw her surprise. "You know," he said, most unexpectedly, "you should wear that uniform of yours more often. I like it."

"Do you want one of your own?" she asked. "I'm sure that can be arranged." Imagining Eric in one of those tight uniforms made her want to giggle like some silly thirteen year old. The sight was going to make a lot of fangbangers die of bliss.

* * *

It was supposed to be a normal night at Fangtasia, with all its usual depravity and promiscuity. Marie was looking forward to going home and getting a good morning's sleep. Working at Fangtasia had its moments, but tonight, things were just tiring. With the academic year starting, the students of Louisiana State University had come flooding back in. Like all students, most of them were not as interested in studying as they were in partying. Marie hated to admit it, but she didn't like dealing with people close to her own age, especially not when they were drunk. Alcohol and underdeveloped frontal lobes did not go well together. Pam and Remy had already kicked a great number of them out of the club, but more were coming in, and they weren't about to turn away paying customers for no reason. Although Remy was technically a daytime man, he'd been brought in especially for the past couple of nights because there were just too many rowdy patrons.

"You know," said the mutant after he'd bodily thrown two drunk boys out. "In my day, people took going to university quite seriously."

"How old are _you_?" asked Marie. "You! You can either pay or put that back!" The second part was directed at a young woman who'd thought that no one would notice if she stole a Fangtasia pencil. Remy dragged her back to the booth and she reluctantly put two dollars down before the Cajun let her go.

"I'm old enough," said Remy with a shrug. "Age doesn't matter a lot these days, does it?"

"If it doesn't, then why is everyone going on about Botox?" said Marie.

"It's a fading fad," said Remy. "They'll be talking about becoming vampires next."

"Yes, that does seem to be the long term solution to wrinkles."

They shared a private laugh. Vampires probably wouldn't find this to be too funny, but they were mutants, and they had different sense of humour.

"Tomorrow's your night off, right, _cherie_?" asked Remy all of a sudden. Marie had some ideas about what he actually wanted to ask her, but she knew better than to let on that she knew. Pretended ignorance was part of the game, after all.

"Yeah?" she said.

"Got any plans in mind?"

"Not really."

"Well, if you don't mind, how about we spend some time together?" he asked. "Perhaps dinner?"

"I could do that," said Marie slowly. She smiled, knowing exactly what was going on. This was going to be her first proper date ever since her powers had manifested.

"Great!" said Remy, returning her grin. "So I'll pick you up at your cousin's house at four thirty, _cherie_? It will be just like normal, except we won't be coming here. I know this place with the most fantastic bouillabaisse—" He never got the chance to finish extolling the virtues of the famous seafood soup.

Noise exploded as a truck smashed through Fangtasia's front door and most of the front wall.

* * *

**A/N:** Wow, that was a long chapter. Never intended for it to be so huge. Hope there wasn't too much waffling!


	18. Violent Negotiations

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. They belong to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 18: Violent Negotiations**

Broiling flames rolled out as the truck exploded. If Remy hadn't knocked her down in time, there was no doubt that she would have been hit by shrapnel. She struck her head against the floor, and stars exploded in her vision. Actually, she wasn't sure if it was the explosion or her optic nerve. Not that she cared. Her ears were ringing from the impact of the blast. She could feel the heat on her skin, even though Remy was shielding her—Remy!

"I'm all right, _cherie_," he said with a wince. "I'm alive."

He didn't _look_ all right to her. In fact, he looked awful in the unflattering orange light of the fire, with blood soaking his shirt and his face ashen. She wanted to burst into tears. Stupid hormones. 'Focus!' she told herself for the hundredth time. She had to remember her Danger Room training. They'd been in bad virtual situations before. Of course, more often than not, Logan was there to save the day while lighting up cigars with the flames from virtual explosions or something.

The flames from the explosion were spreading. All around, there was weeping and whimpering from injured humans. Vampires were too proud to start whimpering. She swallowed as she caught sight of Ginger, or what was left of Ginger. She'd been close to the blast. One of her eyeballs lay on the ground, connected to her only by the optic nerve. Her hair was covered with blood and debris. Marie might not have been a coroner, but she knew that the waitress was quite dead.

"Can you stand?" she asked Remy.

The smell of petrol leaked into the club. Having twice absorbed Logan's life force, Marie had developed a sense of smell that was just slightly stronger than the average human's. The flames grew stronger. One of the injured vampires caught fire, and he went up like a flare. The fire kept on spreading like a bloodstain across the ceiling and the walls.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she was about to scream, and then whoever it was spun her around. Eric. One side of his face had been slashed open by shrapnel from the oversized bomb, but the flesh was already knitting together. He was holding onto Pam with his other hand, and she was leaning against him for support. She must have been injured in the blast, although Marie was too confused and close to hysterics to see how badly she'd been hurt.

"We have to leave now," said the vampire. His voice was hard, and cold, like the blade of a sword. Yes, she had been watching a movie about medieval Jerusalem last night.

"We can't leave these people here to die!" she blurted out without thinking. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew how stupid she'd sounded. The building was burning around them. What could _they_ do? The humans who were still able were already running for the entrances, stepping over and on the people on the floor, crushing them if they weren't already dead. They flooded the destroyed entrance of the bar, effectively damming it up.

The fire was spreading too quickly. One injured vampire went up like a flare. His screams would forever be engraved in her mind, so terrible they were. He was quickly silenced as he became ash.

Instead of talking to her, Eric just dragged her towards the back of the club. He didn't agree with her and he wasn't even going to deign to give her a spoken rebuttal. She did not have the strength to resist. Remy brought up the rear, along of a couple of other vampires who had not been too injured by the blast.

Greasy black smoke made it difficult for them to see or breathe. She choked on the fumes. She could imagine the petroleum coating her alveoli. It certainly felt that way. She needed air. Desperately. If it weren't for Eric dragging her, she doubted she would have been able to find her way to the exit. Her head was growing faint. She hardly knew what she was doing, or what she was thinking, or even who she was. She just wanted oxygen.

The cold night air came as a shock to her senses. She sucked in huge gulps of air, a little shocked that she was still alive. She glanced back at Fangtasia. It was burning now, like a beacon that was declaring open war.

Sirens wailed in the distance and moments later, a fire truck pulled into the parking lot, followed by two police cars and an ambulance. They tried to put Pam into an ambulance, but neither she nor Eric was having any of it, and the paramedics soon gave up. Marie wasn't sure what a human hospital could do for vampires, at any rate.

There was a loud and large group of reporters and photographers outside the perimeter which the police had set up, as well as spectators and wannabe reporters and photographers with their cell phones. In no time, the news would be absolutely everywhere, and perhaps some organization —perhaps the Fellowship of the Sun or one of its branches?— would step forward to claim responsibility for this. Then again, perhaps not. Steve Newlin had just been elected as a senator, and he'd probably want to seem a little more moderate while he established his place in the government.

Why was she even thinking about this? She just survived a bomb blast, for the love of God, or Goddess, or whatever. There were more important things to do, such as persuade Remy to go with the paramedics to get his arm checked out, and then call Logan to make sure he didn't think she was dead.

It took her a while to register that one of the paramedics was talking to her. He wanted to check that she was all right. Wait. That would mean touching, wouldn't it? She didn't want anyone else to die tonight. "I'm not hurt," she said.

"It's better to be safe than sorry, Miss," said the paramedic.

"Please don't touch me," said Marie. She figured it would be all right if she sounded a bit crazy right now. She'd just been almost blown up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Miss," said the paramedic gently, but he took her advice and didn't make any contact with her. He shone a torch at her eyes and then asked her how many fingers he was holding up in front of her. He asked her whether she had a headache, tinnitus —phantom ringing in the ears—, or nausea. She answered no to all of them. "Well," he said, when he was done. "You were very lucky."

"Remy shielded me from the worst of the blast," she said. "Is he going to be all right?"

"You mean your friend over there?" asked the paramedic, nodding over at where the Cajun was sitting on the steps of an ambulance and answering questions irritably. "He probably should come to the hospital for a check up, just in case, but I think he's going to be fine." The man gave her a comforting smile. "You were both very lucky."

"I know," whispered Marie, as she remembered what poor Ginger had looked like.

Eric was talking to a policeman nearby. She managed to catch snatches of the conversation; the detective was asking who Eric's enemies were, who might have wanted to do this, and he wasn't particularly sympathetic. If Eric was annoyed, he didn't show it. He gave short precise answers, albeit not very accurate ones. No, he didn't have a lot of enemies and yes, he suspected that this was a hate crime against vampires. She supposed he really didn't want to expose the workings of vampire society to the police. That would not be good.

Marie herself got asked a couple of questions, the same type that they were asking her boss, in fact. She answered as many as she could. Did she know anyone who would want to hurt Eric or anyone inside the club? Well, she didn't know any specifics, but she suspected that this was a hate crime. Did she see anyone suspicious come into the bar in the past few nights? Not that she'd noticed.

"All right, Miss D'Ancanto," said the female detective who'd been questioning her. Throughout their entire conversation, she got the feeling that the older woman was worried about her welfare, probably because she was working for a vampire who obviously had a lot of standing. Eric could hide many things, but he could not hide his authoritative manner from anyone. "Thank you for your help. If you think of anything else, please call me." She handed Marie her business card and gave her one last concerned look before going off to question other survivors.

With nothing else left to do, she called her cousin and her friends to let them know that she was okay. Logan wanted to fly down immediately, even though he hated flying and would much rather ride his bike half way across the country. Marie didn't quite manage to convince him to stay put, not that she actually wanted him to stay in New York. She needed a friend. Sookie called her before she managed to dial her cousin's number. "Oh my God!" her cousin practically screeched into her ear. "I was so worried! Are you hurt? Where are you? I'm going to come and get you!"

"Sookie, relax," said Marie. "I'm fine. Just a few scratches. I'm in Fangtasia's parking lot at the moment."

"Well, you stay there," said Sookie before Marie could protest. "I'm comin' to get you. Sam'll let me leave early." Within an hour, Marie's phone rang again. Sookie was outside Fangtasia, but unable to get in due to the police perimeter and the spectators. Still talking on the phone, Marie looked for a way out. The entire area was cordoned off as the firemen fought the blaze that was consuming the blackened shell of the club, or rather, they were trying to keep it contained and prevent it from spreading to the toy store next door. Ambulances drove off, loaded with the injured and the dead.

"Are you looking for an exit, _cherie_?" said a voice behind her. Marie whipped around to see Remy. His colour had returned, and his arm had been bandaged by medical personnel. "I was released," he said as he caught her staring at his arm. "The hospitals are going to be full tonight and they don't have enough room for me, so they let me go."

"So I guess your life isn't in any danger, huh?" said Marie.

"It never was," said the Cajun with a shrug. "I've dealt with much worse than this. Don't you forget, I'm the man who saved the Wolverine from a falling piece of nuclear reactor. So, you need some help?"

"Yes please," said Marie. "Sookie's waiting across the road from the front entrance. Just let me tell Eric that I'm going."

The vampire in question had evidently overheard their conversation. "If you want to go home, you might as well go now," he said. "There's nothing for you to do here right now, although you will receive an email containing a list of things I want you to do for me tomorrow." Well, she supposed that was a promotion. She was now one of his daytime girls instead of just his cashier. "And you'll be dealing with the media during the day."

"The media?" she squeaked. The look Eric gave her conveyed the idea that he was decidedly unimpressed with her reaction. "Why me?"

"Because Bobby Durnham is a world class arsehole, as you young humans would say, and you clean up rather nicely," he said.

Marie wanted to tell him that 'world class arsehole' was what Sookie called him, but this didn't really seem like the right time, so she kept silent.

"And I was rather impressed with your performance in Dallas," Eric continued. "The official statements will come from me, don't worry. All you have to do is answer the media's questions with pre-prepared answers. In essence, I need you to act."

"Sure..." said Marie, although she wasn't so sure. From cashier to PR manager, or even just PR assistant? That was a _huge_ promotion. "So...I'll see you tomorrow night?" He gave her a quick nod before turning his attention back to Pam.

Remy escorted her through the crowds, pushing and shoving when he needed to, which was quite often. Better him than her. At least he wasn't likely to kill anybody by accident. Everybody wanted to catch a glimpse of the vampires and of the burning club. There were far too many people who seemed to be delighting in the carnage and fire, taking multiple pictures with their low-quality cell phone cameras. She was sure this was all over YouTube by now.

Sookie ran towards them as soon as she saw them and threw her arms around her cousin, taking care not to come into direct contact with her skin. "I was so worried," breathed Sookie.

"But I told you I was fine," said Marie. "Remy protected me from the worst of it." Sookie released Marie and turned to the Cajun. "Thank you so much," she said.

"It's a gentleman's duty to protect a lady when there is danger," said Remy with a grin. Marie blushed. She didn't know if she was flattered or embarrassed. Before she could decide, he'd turned to her. "Is tomorrow night still on, or will you be busy doing PR work for the boss?"

"PR work?" said Sookie. "I thought you manned the souvenir booth."

"I got promoted," said Marie. "And I don't see why tomorrow night's off. I'm only working during the day. That's what Eric said."

"Well, I'll see you at four thirty tomorrow then, _cherie_," said Remy. He opened the passenger door for her.

"See you," she said shyly as she got in. He kept standing by the side of the road, watching them as the two women drove off.

"He's sweet," said Sookie once they were out of Shreveport.

"Yeah," said Marie. "Very."

"Bill was sweet to me too," said the telepath. "I talked to him this evening before I went to work." That was a new development. This had to be the first time that the two of them had talked after New Orleans.

"What about?" asked Marie. Her mind kept on wandering back to the events of tonight, to how Remy had pushed her out of the way of the blast, to Ginger's eye dangling by her optic nerve, to the sight of Fangtasia burning. She needed something to take her mind off it, and her cousin's relationship problems were as good as anything else she could come up with.

"I was thinking that maybe I was too harsh on 'im," said Sookie. "And I want to give our relationship a second chance, y'know? I think he wants to have a new start too."

"Well, that's great!" said Marie. "I'm happy for you." She meant it. She liked Bill, and she wanted Sookie to be happy. For the past two weeks, the telepath had been sulking far too much.

"I think Bill and me, we're right together," Sookie continued.

"You're in love, Sook," said Marie. "Everything feels right when you're in love."

"I guess," said Sookie. "This is my first time so I really don't know anythin' about it." She probably would have gone on, if Marie's phone hadn't chosen that moment to start playing a very tinny version of the _Phantom of the Opera_theme. She fumbled around and finally managed to extract it from her pocket. The phone number wasn't one that she recognized. She opened the phone anyway and answered the call.

"Hello?" she said.

"Humans have picketed our residences," said Eric's voice on the other end. Well, he definitely did not waffle. He got straight to the point. "We're coming to Bon Temps."

* * *

Eric ended the call before the mutant could have a chance to say anything, although knowing Marie, she'd probably have just handed the phone to Sookie, who would just have told him how it was not acceptable for him to just drop in. He was in no mood for the telepath's ranting at the moment. His phone started ringing. "Pam, answer it," he said. If it was Marie or Sookie calling back, then he was not going to deign to answer it himself. Actually, he wasn't going to deign to answer any calls tonight. He wanted to kill someone.

"It's Bill Compton," said Pam after a little while. "He wants to talk to you."

"Doesn't he watch the news?" growled the Viking. Compton was the _last_ person in the world he wanted to hear from right now. No, actually, Compton was preferable to the Queen. "Tell him I'm not available right now."

"He says it's urgent," said Pam. Eric held out his hand and Pam passed him the phone.

"Speak," he barked into it.

"Eric," said Bill. "It's about Sookie." At that moment, he caught sight of the beat up old Malibu just in front of him. Humans were such slow drivers.

* * *

"Eric wants to _what_?" said Sookie. Marie had known that she wouldn't like it, and she was right. Sookie's knuckles were white, even in the minimal light. "He can't just come because he wants to!"

"You and I both know that Eric does whatever the hell he wants," said Marie. "And his house has been picketed, so he probably needs somewhere to go."

"He could have _asked_ if we wanted him."

"Eric doesn't ask. I would be worried if he did." She did not say that he probably knew she wouldn't say no. He was an ally, and moreover, he had been good to her. She owed him. She glanced at the rearview mirror. Two headlights glared back at her. The car behind them was going at a breakneck speed. As it drew closer, she could identify it. Even if she hadn't recognized the make and the colour, and she did, since she'd ridden in that car so many times, she would know the license plate anywhere. 'BLDSKR'.

"You know," said Sookie, who had also recognized the corvette. "If he has to come to my house without even asking if it was inconvenient or not, at least he can let me get there before he does!"

* * *

Pam and Eric were waiting outside for them by the time Sookie and Marie pulled up the drive. Sookie reluctantly invited them in. Technically, only Pam needed an invitation, since Marie had already invited Eric in quite a few weeks ago, but strangely enough, the sheriff observed common human courtesies. Well, some.

Marie asked if anyone wanted drinks, which they all did. After what had happened, most people would need something strong, although the vampires would have to make do with synthetic blood. She might be their ally, but she was not going to extend her neck for their fangs. She popped the Trubloods into the microwave and got out a beer for Sookie. For herself, she found a carton of Bailey's Irish Creme ice-cream.

By the time she emerged, balancing the bloods and beers and ice-cream on a tray —the waitress training she'd received at Merlotte's had finally come in handy— the vampires had more or less settled in. Eric had seated himself in one of the armchairs, with his long legs stretched in front of him. Pam sat with her back as straight as a spear and her ankles crossed. There was a hole in her corset —the only sign that she'd been impaled by a piece of plumbing— and Sookie was on the edge of the only other armchair. Marie set the tray down on the scratched antique coffee table and picked up the carton of ice-cream.

"You're not going to eat all of that, are you?" asked Pam, indicating the carton as Marie dug in with a large spoon.

"Give me some slack, Pam," said Marie. "I've been almost blown up more times than I've been kissed. I deserve some loving from Ben and Jerry at least."

"Dear Abby says that impulsive eating indicates emotional hunger in humans," said Pam.

"I'm more than emotionally hungry; I'm traumatized," said Marie, before sticking a spoonful of frozen sweet goodness in her mouth. Then her tongue became stuck to the very cold spoon. Damn.

"It's not going to be safe here for long," said Eric after a short moment of silence. He took his bottle of blood without a word, unscrewed the cap and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. "The entire town knows where Bill Compton lives and that Miss Stackhouse is involved with him."

"You think they'll come after me an' Bill?" said Sookie.

"Perhaps," said Eric. "Speaking of Bill, he told me he's leaving town, and he's probably not returning, but he's left you something that will keep you quite comfortable for the next seven decades. He asked me to arrange it."

Marie was so shocked that she yanked the spoon out of her mouth, taking quite a few skin cells with it. Her hand flew to her mouth as she fought to keep herself from swearing from shock, both from the revelation of Bill's leaving and the fact that her tongue really hurt. She couldn't believe it. Here, all along, they'd thought Bill was Rhett Butler, when he was...well, like a million other men who had their way with women and then moved on, thinking that money would be enough to mend a broken heart and shattered self-esteem.

"But that's not possible..." whispered Sookie. She dropped her bottle of beer on the living room rug. The foamy liquid spilled everywhere. She didn't notice. Forgetting about her smarting tongue, her ice-cream and the vampires, she immediately put an arm around Sookie's shoulders.

* * *

Sookie didn't know how she managed to climb the stairs. She just felt completely lightheaded and out of it, as if this was happening to someone else and not her. She pitied that woman, the one whom Bill had abandoned. Marie ushered her into her darkened bedroom and switched on the light. That was when she realized that the woman she was pitying was herself. Tears came, without her permission. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't stand. She would have collapsed if Marie hadn't been there holding her arm all along.

"Here," said her cousin. "Sit down." The younger woman led her over to the bed.

"How could he?" she whispered.

"Men are Martians, remember?" said Marie. She took a box of tissues off the dresser and handed it to Sookie. That was when the telepath lost it.

"Couldn't he even say it to my face?" she screamed. Her voice didn't sound like her. It was so piercing and harsh. "He dumped me through Eric!"

"At least he didn't dump you _for_ Eric," said Marie.

The image _that_ conjured was so bizarre and disturbing that Sookie couldn't help but giggle through her tears. The vampires could probably hear them, which only made it funnier. "I don't know how I would have reacted to that," she managed to choke out, and then she burst into tears again. "But at least I'd know _why_ he dumped me." She suddenly stood up. Everything seemed clear now. She knew what she had to do. "Actually, I'm going to go and demand an explanation right now."

* * *

Marie could hardly keep up with Sookie as she charged down the stairs, fuelled by the anger of a scorned woman. The two vampires in the house hardly seemed to have moved, although the mutant was sure that they'd heard at least some of the exchange upstairs, if not all of it. Eric nodded at Pam, and the other vampire followed Sookie out the door just a few moments after she was gone, leaving Marie once again alone with her boss.

"You know," said Eric, "If Bill Compton _did_ dump Sookie for me, I would be seriously disturbed, and nothing has disturbed me for eight hundred years."

"You heard it?" said Marie.

"Vampire hearing," said Eric. "I can probably give your friend a run for his money."

Awkward silence reigned. Marie didn't really know what to say to him, but it felt righ to say something. "I'm sorry about Fangtasia," she said.

"What's done is done. The insurance policy will take care of it," said Eric. He lifted an eyebrow at her, for seemingly no apparent reason. "Were you telling the truth when you said you've been blown up more times than you've been kissed?"

"I've been kissed twice and _almost _blown up at least three times, so yes, it's the truth," she said, looking at her boss oddly. What was he getting at? He'd been asking her some rather strange things lately.

"You should even it out," he said. The vampire leaned down so, bringing his face up so close to hers, and something made her lean forward, although she didn't know why. It was as if she wasn't in full control of her body... Then Pam zoomed back into the house, holding a shocked and hysterical Sookie at an arm's length. The vampire unceremoniously deposited the telepath on one of the armchairs.

"Bill Compton has been snatched," Pam informed her maker as he straightened himself. If she noticed anything about his posture, she gave no indication. "His entire house reeked of wet dog and cheap jewellery."

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't resist bringing in season three/book three's storyline. Gotta give Alcide his entrance. And Logan's coming back down to Louisiana. Werewolves and Wolverines and Sabretooths...this is becoming a menagerie.


	19. Secrets in Blood

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 19: Secrets in Blood**

She might not have been a forensic scientist, but she'd watched enough CSI to be able to identify signs of a struggle when she saw them. Furniture, floppy discs and rewritable CDs were strewn everywhere. Many of them were in shards. The scent of burned flesh still lingered, sweet and sickly. She glanced at the vampire standing in front of her. Eric's broad shoulders blocked most of her view, but she could see enough. Pam had been ordered to stay behind with Sookie, to make sure that she didn't do anything stupid. Technically, Marie didn't need to be here, but she had insisted. Bill might have behaved like a despicable bastard, but before that, they'd been sort of friends, and she felt that she ought to do something to help, even if she didn't know what she could do.

"Werewolf," growled Eric. "Just as Pam said."

"There are werewolves?" said Marie, grimacing.

"There are many breeds of werewolf," said Eric. "Some retain some semblance of a man and can only turn during the full moon. Others transform at will and become just like wolves. And then there are those who, once they've turned, cannot turn back." He sniffed again, and cursed under his breath. "These are the second type, in case you are wondering, and they've left," he told her; she'd been about to ask. "Go back to your cousin's house and stay there. Apprise your friends in New York of the latest developments. Those weres cannot have gotten far." He didn't wait for a response before zooming out of the house. It was almost as if he'd teleported out; he'd been that fast.

Marie glanced at the now empty house, with the disks scattered on every surface. Bill had been a bit of a technology addict. He loved his laptop and he'd insisted on getting Sookie a wireless internet connection so he could use his computer over at her house. She started gathering up the disks that were still salvageable. Since there were no werewolves here anymore, she was probably safe, at least for the time being. If they wanted to know what happened to Bill and why, then the key probably lay in his computer, if only she could locate it.

She found a black garbage bag in the kitchen and put all the disks in there. For the floppies, she would have to use the old computer that Bill kept downstairs, since her laptop didn't have a floppy disk drive. The stairs creaked as she climbed up them. The laptop was nowhere to be seen, and she surmised that whoever had taken Bill must also have taken the computer, further convincing her that the vampire had been taken because he knew something, or had something that was worth being kidnapped for. The werewolves, however, were not exactly technologically savvy, for they'd left behind the external hard drive. She bagged that too. Who knew what was in it?

* * *

The dining room was a nest of wires and cables. Sookie was afraid of going anywhere near said nest, for fear of disconnecting something. Technology was one of the things that she never got. Hell, she'd just figured out how to use the DVD player Marie had bought. Her cousin sat in the middle of that nest, looking as comfortable as possibly could sitting at the dining table as she tapped away furiously, first on one keyboard, and then on another. She'd insisted on moving Bill's old computer into their house —she'd taken the wheelbarrow from the garden shed and carted it over across the graveyard— and she'd just spent the past half hour setting it up. It was all Egyptian to Sookie. So she sat in an armchair with her legs curled up beneath her, wrapped in Gran's old afghan and sipping on some coffee to calm her nerves.

"Dammit," Marie muttered under her breath.

"Did the Trojans besiege your computer?" asked Pam.

"No," said Marie. "But his hard drive is heavily encrypted and I can't get in without a password."

"Aren't you supposed to know how to get past that?" asked the female vampire.

"I learned how to draw nice graphs and use Photoshop, Pam," said Marie. "This stuff is Mystique's specialty." She inserted a floppy disk into Bill's old computer. They found notes about vampires; a lot of vampires from all over the world. There was even an entry on the enigmatic 'Sicilian', although Bill never got very far with that. All he had was a location and suspected links to criminal organizations all over the world. Then there were vampires who were suspected of being Alexander the Great, Hannibal —the Carthaginian general, not the fictional psychopath killer— and even Helen of Sparta. Their identities, of course, were yet to be confirmed; it seemed that Bill had been working on this project for a while. Perhaps some of these vampires didn't want to be exposed. Perhaps that was why he was taken.

Pam suddenly looked up, and the two women followed the direction of her gaze. Eric was back. He hadn't brought Bill Compton with him, and he didn't look as if he'd killed something, but there was something in his expression. It wasn't often that he actually had an expression that was something else other than a snarl or a smirk. If there was ever a 'poker face', then Eric was it.

"What did you find?" demanded Sookie, leaping out of her chair. "Do you know where Bill is?"

"I didn't find Bill Compton," said Eric. "The trail led to an airfield just outside Shreveport. I glamoured one of the workers into giving me a list of flights out of Shreveport in the past three hours. There weren't very many." He gave the piece of paper to Sookie.

"New York, Jackson, and Washington," the telepath read. "But which one?"

"That's something I have to investigate further," said the vampire sheriff. "What have you found?" His question was directed not at Sookie, but at Marie and Pam.

"I got Bill's disks to see who might have wanted to kidnap him," said Marie.

"It looks like every prominent vampire in the world, mythical or otherwise, has a motive for kidnapping Bill Compton," said Pam. "I think he was collecting information on all of them." In an instant, Eric was by her side, looking over Marie's shoulder at Bill's ancient screen.

"His laptop was missing," said Marie. "I looked everywhere, and all I found was the charger. I'm guessing whoever took him also took that. There's also an external hard drive."

"But that has a password and our little hacker here can't get into it," said Pam.

"Do you know anyone who can?" asked Eric.

"Mystique," said Marie promptly. "She hacked the CIA easily, so I'm Bill's security won't be a problem for her."

"Good," said Eric, "because I think I hear your jet."

That was how Sookie ended up with a futuristic jet in her front yard. She hoped that no one would come by, not that anyone apart from Sam, Tara or Jason were likely to drop in, but still. She didn't know how she was going to explain all this to them, or if she would even be allowed to explain.

* * *

She smelled of smoke and petrol and sweat, but she was alive, and that was all that mattered. "God," breathed Logan, even if he was pretty sure there wasn't such a thing as a god, "When you said there'd been an explosion, I just...well, you know."

"We told him that you wouldn't be calling him if you weren't all right," said Jubilee. She, Kitty, Bobby had insisted on coming along too, against Storm's wishes. Actually, Storm hadn't wanted them to come at all, but Logan had managed to cajole Mystique into flying them down. It had taken all his charm and powers of persuasion.

"But he wouldn't listen," said Kitty.

"You panicked too," Logan pointed out.

"I'm not so good at compartmentalizing, and my frontal lobe isn't fully developed yet," said Kitty. "And have you set up a computer shop?" She indicated the cables and wires and disks strewn all over the dining room table haphazardly, creating one huge mess.

"I'm actually doing computer forensics here," said Marie sheepishly. "But there's this thing about an external hard drive and a password that I don't have..."

At the back of the group, Mystique finally sighed. Throughout the entire exchange, she had remained silent. Even though she'd aligned herself with the X-Men, she was still somewhat of an outsider. She wasn't accustomed to this sort of camaraderie. The metamorph was much more about political manoeuvring than friendship. "Do you want me to have a look at it?" she asked.

"Please?" said Marie hopefully.

Mystique spent fifteen minutes rearranging the cables and the settings on the computers while the vampires and the other mutants reacquainted themselves with one another. Logan nodded at Northman and grunted at his associate. Kitty was introduced, and she seemed to be in awe of the vampires, or rather, one vampire sheriff in particular. Logan didn't get it.

By the time Mystique was finished, Sookie's dining room looked like the headquarters for some secret government operation. There were four computer screens, and numerous other pieces of equipment which no one apart from the metamorph could identify. It looked professionally frightening. The metamorph's blue fingers flew over the keyboard. Numbers and pieces of code flashed across the screen, to quickly for the eye, human or otherwise, to follow.

The lights on Bill's external hard drive flashed blue, and a window opened on the screen. They were scans of parish records. "What's up with that?" asked Logan, peering at the screen with a frown. "Those look like birth and death dates. Why's he got that on a protected hard drive?"

"Look at the names that he's circled," said Eric.

"That's my great-granddad," said Marie.

"Mine too," said Sookie. "And there's Gramps and my Great Uncle Francis, and Gran, and Mom and Dad...what's this all about?"

"It looks like he was checking out your background," said Mystique drily. "He saved this a year ago. Was that when you met?"

"No," whispered Sookie. For a moment, she looked as if she was going faint. "No, I only met Bill four months ago."

* * *

Sookie forced herself to stay silent as the others looked through Bill's hard drive. Not only did he have parish records, but he also had pictures of her which had been taken with a long distance lens without her knowing. He had newspaper clipping scans, and little notes written in a code that only he had the key to, although Mystique was tapping furiously away at the keyboard trying to do something to generate the key to the code.

"Do you think he might have left his cell phone behind?" asked Marie suddenly. "Maybe his call register and his contact list might tell us something."

"That's a good idea," said Jubilee. "How thoroughly did you search the house?"

"Not very thoroughly," said Marie. "Werewolves attacked the house. I didn't want to stay there by myself for too long."

"Pam, go and search for Compton's cell phone, see if it's still there," said Eric. The other vampire rolled her eyes, but she didn't complain. Perhaps she knew it was futile to argue with her maker. "Once you're at the house, I will have someone call the number, to make it easier to find."

"Use this," said Mystique, handing the sheriff a small electronic device. "It stops people from tracing your phone." Okay, this was looking more and more like one of those Bourne movies; Marie had made Sookie watch them with her, and the telepath had enjoyed them, although she had never thought that she would end up living one of them. She was a barmaid, not an amnesiac secret agent—actually they had an amnesiac potential secret agent right here, although Logan wasn't much like the multi-lingual Bourne.

Eric obviously hadn't seen the Bourne movies because he looked at the device in his hand with some mistrust, obviously confused as to what he ought to do with it.

"I think you plug your phone into it...somehow," said Logan helpfully. Eric finally figured it out. Technology wasn't his friend, but he was a smart guy. One did not live as long as he did by not being smart and adaptable. He scrolled through his list of contacts and then selected one. He waited. Pam answered it, and Sookie's hopes fell yet again. She was hoping that Bill would have his cell phone with him so that they could triangulate his position the way they did those CSI shows that Marie loved and taped every week.

'Well, at least we can look at his contacts,' she thought to herself. She had to keep optimistic. She had an entire team —who were _much_ better than the local law enforcement— helping her to locate her missing vampire, and their technology looked like it came of _Star Trek_. Most people would just have to rely on the police.

Pam zoomed in through the door and without a word, handed Bill's cell phone to Eric. The telepath felt a pang as she saw that familiar looking plastic rectangle. Eric handed the phone to Mystique, who plugged it in to her computer and looked up the locations of all the other numbers on his call register, all the while trying to hack into the phone company records to get a longer log. "He's called Sicily a lot," said the metamorph. "The calls never went through. There are numerous different numbers from New Orleans, although the calls all go back to the same cell tower in the city."

"The Queen," said Eric. "Anything else?"

"Shreveport, New York, Mexico City, Tehran, Chennai, Oslo, Bristol, Munich, Boston, Palermo, Palermo again, Salerno, Messina, Istanbul, Rome...There was a very long call from a number in Jackson. It only occurs once, however. That was one of the last long conversations he had before he was kidnapped.

"When was this?"

"Early last night, at eight," said Mystique.

"That's right after we talked!" exclaimed Sookie.

"Does that mean anything to you?" asked Eric.

"Not really," said the telepath.

"So we're still stuck with New York, Washington and Jackson," said Pam, "unless we want to add in all the other cities."

"Contact all our liaisons in Washington and Jackson, Pam," said Eric.

"And New York?" asked the female vampire. There was a pause.

"I'll deal with New York," said Eric. Before he could 'deal' with New York, however, his phone rang.

* * *

It was the Queen. She didn't care about what had happened to Fangtasia. In fact, when Eric mentioned the bombing to her, she brushed it off as if he was saying that his dry-cleaning got ruined. "I need you to move all the product," she said. "How much do you have left?"

"Fifteen vials, Your Majesty" said Eric. "I am doing the best I can, but there isn't as large a market as you think for product of this...vintage. Most humans cannot afford it."

"Move it. Sell it at half price. I don't care. I want it gone." That was...surprising. Wasn't she supposed to be getting money out of this to pay off her debts to the IRS? If she was selling her blood at half price, then how much blood was she going to have him sell? He glanced back at the house. The lights were on, and he couldn't see anyone outside, nor could he sense anyone nearby. That was good. No one else needed to know about the sale of V. "The Magister has been asking me about it, and I want it gone."

Eric sucked in a breath, even though he didn't need to breathe. He smelled the grease of southern fried food in the air and tasted the acrid hint of exhaust fumes from the road. They said that when a man saw his impending death, his life would flash before his eyes. He thought about all the time when it had seemed that all hope had been lost, and yet he had survived. But he didn't think he'd ever been in such deep shit. The Magister was a remnant of the Spanish Inquisition, and he had been the most enthusiastic Inquisitor. He didn't mean that as a compliment. Vladimir Baranova, as he now called himself, was younger than Eric and Sophie-Ann, and not as powerful, but he was backed by the Authority and all its might. Baranova also had a way of sniffing out inconvenient truths.

"I'll see to it," he said to the queen. He would have to. If he didn't, the queen wouldn't be the only one to be in pit of shit. He ended the call. Everything seemed to be heaping up before him. First Fangtasia, and then Bill Compton, and now the V. Pam was right; he couldn't deal with this alone, and as much as he hated to rely on family, they were still his family. When it came down to it, they were more likely to take his side than, say...the Authority's.

One of Sibylla's clerks answered on the first ring. "Sancta Terra Pharmaceuticals," said the almost robotic voice.

"Put me through to the Queen," said Eric.

* * *

The fabric was smooth, rich, and cool to the touch. She wasn't sure she liked the colour, however. "I am not a pastels' woman," said Sybille to Emma Del Clair, a young designer who had just struck out on her own. "Violet, or perhaps burgundy."

"Of course, Your Majesty," said the human, quickly taking down some notes. She was more than happy to have the Queen of New York wear her garments; in fact, she was so happy that she was willing to make the clothes for free, if the Queen would provide the materials, of course. Sybille was perfectly happy to do that. She knew exactly what sort of fabric she wanted. The cut and style, she would leave up to the designers, giving them only very broad guidelines. They usually knew what they were doing, and if they didn't, they would soon find themselves out of a job. It was much more economical to patronize young designers than those well-established fashion houses. They didn't need the publicity she could give.

"Your Majesty?" said Elspeth. She was holding the phone. "Sheriff Northman of Louisiana Area Five wishes to speak to you. Shall I tell him that you are preoccupied?"

"No, bring it over," said Sybille, holding out her hand for the phone. "Leave," she said to her lady and waiting and to the human. They both shuffled out backwards. No one turned their backs to her. She was a queen, and she would be respected as such. "Eric darling, this is the second time you've called me this month," she said into the phone once she was sure she was alone. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

* * *

Eric tried to stay calm. He had never been very good at staying calm when it had come to Sibylla. They had too much history between them, and too many ties. It was all very complicated. "One of the vampires in my area has gone missing," he told her. He skipped out everything about Bill Compton's links to Sookie, and the very suspicious files they'd found on his computer. She didn't need to know about that. "I have reason to believe that he might have been taken to your kingdom."

"Does this vampire have a name?" asked Sibylla. "It makes it easier if you provide details."

"His name is William Compton," said Eric, and then he proceeded to give her a brief description, but she stopped him.

"I've heard of him," she said. "He is the young vampire who seems to have gotten Sophie-Ann's attention."

"Yes," said Eric. "He's been kidnapped by werewolves."

"Werewolves? How ghastly," said Sibylla. "Well, I shall pass this on to my people. No one goes in or out of New York without me knowing it. But come, you didn't call me just to talk to me about some inconsequential subject of Sophie-Ann's, did you?"

"What else would I call you about?"

"Well, funny you should ask, because I was looking through the most interesting bank records last night," said Sibylla. "There has been two deposits of five hundred thousand dollars and six hundred thousand dollars respectively into Sophie-Ann's account in the past three weeks. No one knows where that money is coming from, and I was hoping that you could tell me before someone else does."

"What makes you think I know?" asked Eric. He could play this game as well as she could.

"It's just a guess, darling," said Sibylla. He hadn't been her 'darling' for a _very_ long time. In fact, he doubted he'd ever been her 'darling', even when they had been 'together'. "Perhaps I'll just have to wait. Baranova has been sniffing around Louisiana. If there's anything worth knowing, he'll release it once he finds out."

"Then I guess you won't find out," said Eric. It was a lie. Sibylla had her fingers in every major organization all over the country, human or supe, and it would only be a matter of time before she linked the increase in V sales in Sophie-Ann's kingdom with the deposits. The only thing he could say was that she didn't find out from him, which, in the long run, didn't mean very much at all. The dislike between his queen and his former lover was deep and irrational, and they would both do anything to get at the other. Sibylla just happened to be better at it. No one ever said that vampires had to be mature, just because most of them were so old.

* * *

Marie felt a headache coming on. No, she wasn't overly fatigued, even if she would be more than happy to crawl into bed and think about her almost kiss with her boss —what the hell had she been thinking?— but the reason for her headache was actually her cousin and her best friend. Logan was stubborn, Sookie was stubborn, and they were arguing.

"Look, Sookie," said Logan. "I don't know why Bill Compton was stalking you, but you shouldn't stay here, just in case. We can keep you safe in New York."

"Bill is somewhere out there, and I'm not goin' anywhere, unless it's to find him," said Sookie. "I appreciate your concern, Logan, but I can look after myself. I'm not going to New York. What if Bill tries to contact me? What if he only left me because he was forced to?"

They'd been regurgitating the same arguments for the past fifteen minutes, and it didn't look as if they were going to change themes anytime soon. Sookie wanted to stay and help in the search for Bill. Logan wanted to keep Sookie safe. Logan thought New York was safe. Sookie disagreed.

"What's this about going to New York?" said Eric's voice from the door way.

"She'll be safe there," said Logan.

"But I want to stay and help find Bill!" said Sookie.

"She would be in a better position to find Bill Compton if she were in New York," said Mystique. This was the first time she'd voiced an opinion. All eyes turned to her, and she sighed. "Don't you remember? Magneto's rebuilding Cerebro."

"What the hell is Cerebro, and what's it got to do with finding Bill?" asked Sookie.


	20. Werewolves and Wolverines

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 20: Werewolves and Wolverines**

Cerebro was a machine designed to enhance a telepath's powers. It boggled the mind, to think that with the help of this little —or huge— gadget of the mutants', Sookie had the ability to find any mortal in the world and simply kill by concentrating on them. Holistically. Eric had thought that the world held no more surprises for him, but these mutants had been nothing but surprising. He wondered why he hadn't heard of them sooner, with all their exploits and super-advanced equipment. If he had, he'd have made the initiative and contacted them. He might think that all breathers were just blood bags and servants, and that he was a god among them, but he'd make an exception for these.

"So technically, you'll be able to find these werewolves much more easily if you use Cerebro," said Mystique. "There is one problem, however."

"What?" asked Sookie.

"It's not going to be finished until two weeks later," said the metamorph. "Although, I think that could be faster than trying to find him without any clues."

"Two weeks is too long!" said the telepath.

"Cerebro is based on very exact science," said Mystique, as if she was talking to a small child, although Sookie did act like a small child a lot of the time. "Exact science takes time. I wouldn't expect you to know that, of course, but that's a fact."

"Well, let me know when it's finished," said Sookie. "I'm not goin' anywhere till then." She crossed her arms, and Eric half expected her to stick out her tongue.

Howlett growled again. He could communicate a lot with monosyllabic sounds, and he was definitely not happy with the telepath's stubbornness. Personally, Eric wouldn't have let Sookie go to New York anyway. New York had dangers that Howlett and the others had not even considered. Sibylla might not be a threat to them, but Eric knew her better than most. She was a dangerous woman and by now, she would have gotten wind of Sookie's powers. Sibylla was the type of woman who got what she wanted, and she wanted everything.

* * *

This was becoming more and more like a science fiction movie and it was all Sookie could do to keep herself grounded. She wasn't some super hero who could save the world; she was Sookie Stackhouse, waitress in Bon Temps, and she just wanted to save her boyfriend —ex-boyfriend?

"No," said Eric. "She is not going to go to New York." Sookie's eyes widened. He was the last person in the world she'd expected to support her, but then again, he was probably supporting himself. If she went to New York, he wouldn't be able to use her services—that sounded bad. Sookie tried to suppress a shudder and put those thoughts out of her head. Yes, Eric was a sex god, but she was repulsed by who he was. She could never be with a man like him. He was deceitful and arrogant and self-absorbed and cruel. "I will not deliver her into the hands of Sybille Royale."

"You don't think we can take care of her?" demanded Logan. Sookie didn't need to be inside his head to sense his annoyance, but somehow, she ended up slipping in. What she saw surprised her, because it had nothing to do with the situation at hand. Somehow, she'd ended up in his subconscious. Images emotions flashed by her. There was a woman, bleeding in his arms. She was dead. Was that his girlfriend, or maybe his wife? There was pain, anger, despair. Someone had killed her. He needed revenge, and he was willing to do anything to get it. Then there was more pain. Needles. Hot liquid metal.

"Sookie?" said Logan. "What are you doin' in my head?"

"I'm sorry," said the telepath. "I didn't mean to." She decided not to tell him about what she'd seen. They both had enough to deal with without throwing _that_ into the mixture. Logan was still reeling from the revelation of the existence of his brother and the identity of said brother. "I'm just tired." Logan gave her an odd look. Perhaps people didn't usually find themselves swimming around in his memories —the ones he didn't know about— when they were tired. They certainly weren't going to induce any good dreams.

"Maybe you should go to bed, Sookie," said Marie.

"All right," said Sookie. "Just as long as you don't try and spirit me off to New York the minute I close my eyes."

Logan snorted. "I'm good, kid," he said, "but I ain't no teleporter. That's Kurt."

Sookie's eyes widened. "Teleporting _exists_?" she asked. God, this was definitely a science-fiction movie and she was starring in it. She wasn't the only one who was surprised by the news, although she had no idea why she was surprised. Her cousin could suck out someone's life with her skin, Logan had claws and super healing powers, Bobby could make ice and Mystique could take the form of anything or anyone. In comparison, teleporting seemed a little mild. Still, it would be quite a novelty to spend absolutely no time on travelling, and it would be useful too. If they located Bill, the teleporter could probably get them to him immediately, and she wouldn't have to keep wondering about him.

"You have a teleporter and you didn't tell me?" demanded Eric.

"Well, now you know," said Logan.

* * *

By four in the morning, they were still none the clearer about the location of Bill Compton. Mystique had to go back to New York, although she grudgingly promised to come back if they needed her, and bring reinforcements if they were required. They still had no idea what the kidnapping of Bill Compton was about exactly, but they had a hunch —or rather, Northman had a hunch— that it was something big, and possibly related to everything else that had happened that night.

"What else happened tonight?" Logan asked.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Howlett," said Northman.

"Oh yeah? Tell you what. Marie almost got blown up and a guy I thought was my friend got kidnapped by werewolves and turned out to be a fucktard—"

"Logan!" hissed Marie. He ignored her. Compton had behaved like a fucktard and therefore deserved to be called one until he explained himself. Even if he had an explanation, Logan wasn't sure whether there could be any excuse for the way he'd treated Sookie.

"—so I if there's something else going on linkin' these two together, then you'd better tell me because believe me, bub, I've got every reason to be concerned," finished the Wolverine. He expected Northman to snarl or to make some threat and not tell him a thing. He knew his kind; secretive, aggressive, and always needing to be in control. Hell, he was a bit like that himself, but he also believed in honesty. All right, so he hadn't told Northman everything about Xavier's school and his colleagues, but he had every intention of doing so in the future, after Northman told him a little bit more about what was going on. Apart from knowing the hatred between the queens of Louisiana and New York, and the existence of vampire royalty, he understood nothing about vampire politics.

"It is nothing you need to know about," Northman reiterated slowly and quietly. His voice was dangerously calm. "When I see fit to reveal it to you, you will find out about it. Until then, all you need to know is that there is likely to be a great upheaval soon, and you should be prepared for it."

"Well, if Armageddon's comin', then I want details," said Logan.

"It's only a presumed Armageddon," said Northman. "Therefore, details are sparse." With that, he zoomed out of the house before Logan could think of a retort, presumably to go dig himself a hole or to find a mausoleum in which he could spend the day, or something. Logan wondered if vampires ever ran funeral homes. It would certainly be handy, as they could probably get lots of nice sample coffins.

Pam glanced at the door and sighed before looking at her shoes; black suede Louboutin thigh-highs with buttons down the side. "I am not burying these in the dirt," she said as she began to take them off. "Do not touch them. If you do, I will know, and I will hunt you down and do bad things to you. _Bad_ things." She set them down beside the door and then she disappeared off into the fading night as well.

"We should head to bed too," said Marie, glancing at the clock. "I'm a daywalker now, so I can't be nocturnal."

* * *

She sat on the peeling garden bench on the front porch, staring across the graveyard that separated Bill's house from hers. Her Gran was there in that graveyard, along with her Gramps. Actually, the entire Stackhouse family —the deceased portion of it, anyway— was buried in that graveyard. There was even a headstone for Bill, erected by his family, although there was nothing buried beneath it. She could hear Logan inside, speaking urgently on the phone. The exact words, she could not make out. He ended the call and then sighed before coming out to join her on the porch.

"What was that all about?" asked Sookie, as he sat down on the bench beside her. The wood creaked beneath his weight. His metal skeleton made him extremely heavy.

"Compton's not in New York," said Logan, running a hand through his hair. "One of Sybille Royale's humans called, and my people haven't gotten a whiff of him either. Look, kid, I'm really sorry about this."

"Why?" asked Sookie. "This isn't your fault."

"Yeah, well, I'm still sorry you have to go through this," said Logan. "I don't like seein' you hurt."

She couldn't help but smile at him. Underneath his gruff exterior, he had the heart of an angel—and he would be totally insulted if anyone told him that, so she decided to keep it to himself. The slanted rays of the sun spilled over the yellowed grass of her lawn, making it gold. Cicadas were buzzing somewhere up in the trees, making a hell of a racket. It was so peaceful, just sitting on the porch with a friend. She could hear Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee inside, fiddling with some tinfoil and her TV aerial because there was a movie they wanted to catch on cable television or something.

Suddenly, Logan stiffened and he sniffed the air. His ears were twitching. He stood, holding out a hand behind him to tell her to stay where she was. He slowly made his way down the porch steps, still sniffing as he scanned the graveyard and the trees that surrounded Sookie's house. "What is it?" asked the telepath.

"Shh," said Logan. "There's something out there."

"Logan, you've got to be more specific—" she began, but she didn't get to finish. A snarling blur leapt out from the trees and hurtled through the air, coming straight for her. However, whatever it was hadn't counted on being intercepted by a large man with an indestructible metal skeleton. Logan's claws popped out. They flashed once in the dying sunlight as he gave an animalistic roar which reverberated in the stillness of the dusk and then the lethal lengths of metal disappeared into the mass of fur, bone and flesh. The agonized yelp made Sookie cringe, and then before their very eyes, the canine on the end of Logan's claws transformed into the body of a naked man with blood bubbling out of his mouth.

However, it wasn't the only one. More wolves burst out from the trees, surrounding the entire house. There were at least two dozen of them, if not more, and they were all snarling. Saliva dripped down in threads from their drawn back lips and their bared white teeth. Logan bared his own teeth at them in a snarl and popped both sets of claws. "Stay back," he growled at Sookie. She could only nod. She wasn't mad enough to try and charge at those wolves, although she wasn't going to stand by and do nothing either. The telepath dashed inside just as one of the braver werewolves leapt at Logan—a bad mistake, judging by the yelp it let out a split second later. Her Gran didn't teach her to be a defenceless woman who always needed saving. She ran to the gun cabinet just as Kitty ran right through her, followed by a large human shaped block of ice. So _that_ was why Logan called Bobby Drake 'Popsicle'.

Jubilee had already climbed out the window, preferring to make a dramatic entrance. Sookie grabbed the shotgun. She could already hear the sounds of fighting outside. A thick layer of ice covered her windows and every possible entrance into her house as Bobby made sure that no werewolves could get past the defenders. Dammit! She wanted to help! And she didn't exactly relish the idea of being in a freezer. She was a southern girl, and the cold was not to her taste at all.

* * *

He woke to the sound of killing and the smell of blood somewhere not so far away. Within seconds, Eric had clawed his way to the surface. Without waiting for Pam to emerge from the dirt, he sped off in the direction of Sookie's house, which was where all the ruckus was coming from. He was greeted with carnage that he hadn't seen since...the last major war he'd witnessed—which had been the Second World War. There was burnt wolf, frozen wolf, and even semi-minced wolf. Or human, depending on the way one saw it. The scent of blood made his fangs extend involuntarily, even if it was just wolf blood. There were few things in life —or death— that Eric, son of Ulfrik, enjoyed as much as a good fight, and if he was killing proper enemies, so much the better.

He snapped a wolf's spine over his knee before the wolf even knew what had hit it. As it changed back into human form, he saw the mark.

* * *

Werewolves were pests. Logan made up his mind about that after he'd stabbed his third wolf. They were either rabid, or high, or maybe both, considering the fact that they were leaping headlong into death. He wondered if he was going to need a rabies' shot, considering the number of times he'd been bitten. Usually, he didn't contract diseases, but these creatures looked like they carried diseases that could affect him. He also wondered if he ought to take the kids to get rabies' shots afterwards. Well, maybe not Bobby, who'd turned into an ice sculpture.

He forgot about rabies and shots and nasty clinics that smelled like antiseptics as a wolf leapt on him from behind and tried its best to rip out his throat. Logan did the only thing he could think of and threw himself backwards with all his might. There was a sickening crunch and a whimper as the wolf was crushed by the force and by the weight of his metal skeleton. The Wolverine rolled on the ground and came to his feet again, the tears in his flesh already healing, leaving only blood-edged rips in his singlet.

Kitty had grabbed a wolf by the hindquarters, and before the animal realized what was going on, both it and the girl were sinking into the ground until only its head remained above the bloodsoaked earth. It snarled and bit at air as it realized that it was completely trapped, but it was useless.

Without Logan noticing, the two vampires had joined in the fight, and he had to admit that he was impressed by Northman's minion—he'd forgotten her name. For someone who resembled an Upper East Side socialite, that woman really knew how to conduct a massacre. Then again, she was one of Northman's minions. He'd probably rubbed off on her. She tore off a wolf's head as if she was ripping the ends off a Christmas cracker. Blood spurted all over her. She didn't seem to mind as she moved onto the next wolf

* * *

She was going to give an earful to whoever it was who had frozen her in her house. No one did that to her. And then the words died in her throat. Carnage lay before her; the bloodstained lawn was black in the moonlight, broken up only by the pale shapes of dismembered werewolves, now all back in their human forms. Sookie could only gape as she took in the sight. It looked as if someone had started and ended the Third World War in front of her house. Vaguely, she thought about how this mess in her life had started right after she'd met Bill. It had only been four months, but it seemed as if she'd had enough violence and excitement and angst to last two lifetimes. Was life with vampires always going to be like this?

She sat sank down on the steps of her porch, which were damp from the thawing ice. Her gun was still in her hand, but she'd more or less forgotten about it. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea! How were they going to clean this up? The police department in Bon Temps might not be the most effective force in the United States, but even old Sheriff Dearborne would notice the two dozen dismembered bodies on her front lawn, not to mention the blood. She could smell it, and it made her feel filthy even though she hadn't done any of the killing. It was too much for the telepath. She'd killed a man before, and she'd watched massacres, but not on her front lawn, and she'd never seen so many chopped up corpses all at once. 'They took Bill, Sookie Stackhouse,' she told herself, willing herself not to throw up or faint, or both. 'And they were gonna kill you.' Maybe they hadn't been going to kill her. Maybe they'd just wanted to kidnap her, but why? Who sent them? The Queen? Wouldn't she have just asked Eric to deliver her to New Orleans?

Eric had crouched down in front of the buried werewolf. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

"Go fuck yourself, fanger!" snarled the wolf/man. Eric cuffed him about the ears in response, sending his head snapping sideways.

"That wasn't very nice," said the vampire. "I asked you a _question_, dog, and you'd better answer it."

"You give me some V and I might consider it," said the man/wolf.

"Was that what you were all high on?" asked Logan, cutting in. "That Australian energy drink with a green can?"

* * *

**A/N: **I'm back! My week's been hectic, with essays and projects and work...but it's almost all done now. *Wipes sweat off forehead.* And I will add that I absolutely adored this week's episode. Russell's little stunt has given me so many ideas.


	21. Blood Brothers

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

**Chapter 21: Blood Brothers**

Everyone was staring at him. The vampires, the kids, Sookie, even the werewolf, who really had a lot more to worry about than something that Logan clearly wasn't getting. "V is the street name for vampire blood," said Northman's associate slowly, enunciating every word as if she were talking to a very small child.

"Well sorry if I ain't up to date with my narcotics," said the Wolverine. "What happened to good ole meth anyway?"

"It's still as good as ever, as far as I know," said the female vampire. "It just has new competition."

"Right," muttered Logan. He turned to the werewolf. "Sorry, bub, but I don't think you're getting any, and if you don't tell us something interesting, yours will be the only blood you'll taste ever again."

* * *

The mark. He'd thought that he'd never see it after the second world war, but here he was, facing the same enemy once more. He didn't hear Pam giving Howlett the Narcotics 101 lecture; all he could focus on was the rune branded on the werewolf's neck.

"Who sent you?" he demanded the were.

"Fuck you!" the wolf spat. The vampire cuffed him about the ears, sending his head snapping sideways.

"I'll ask you again," he said. "Who went you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Either the werewolf was overly confident, or he was just very very stupid. Eric went with the latter.

"Miss Stackhouse," he said. Sookie seemed to awaken from a trance when he said her name. "Do you mind?" He wasn't really asking, and she seemed to know that. However, a little courtesy never went amiss when dealing with allies.

"He's from Jackson," said Sookie after spending a moment scrutinizing the werewolf through narrowed eyes. "And he's really addicted to V."

V addicted werewolves with that rune; a million thoughts were going through his head at once. Whoever he'd been hunting for the past thousand years was still alive. He wanted revenge for what had been done to him. He needed help. His 'family' had sworn to help him get revenge.

Yes, family. As much as he didn't want to get involved with them, this was one thing he could not do without them. His enemy was powerful; he'd known that much. It was only two in the morning in Sicily. His brother ought to know that he was on the warpath again, and Eric could definitely use his help. He did have his fingers stuck in a great number of government organizations, after all. Same with Sibylla.

The were was still screaming bloody murder, as if he was in any position to threaten anyone, with only his head sticking above the ground and the corpses of his fellow wolves surrounding him. Not a single one had escaped, which meant that there was a lot of cleaning up that needed to be done. That was another call that he needed to make. And after he'd made those calls, he was going to get _his_ people together; this was just like those war councils he used to call when he'd been human.

* * *

They were in the middle of discussing Shakespeare when Logan's phone call interrupted them. Werewolves had attempted to take Sookie. They'd been thwarted, and all but one werewolf had survived. Eric was calling war council and he needed them to be in Bon Temps in an hour. Remy wasn't happy about their date being interrupted, but they both knew that Marie would go. There was no way in the world she would be able to enjoy herself whilst knowing that Sookie probably needed her to be there to support her. Besides, the boss had spoken, and this sounded really important.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this," said Marie, "but my cousin getting attacked is a really big deal, especially now."

"It's fine," said Remy. "Although I was wondering when you were going to tell me about it. I mean, I'm one of you, technically."

She apologized again. She seemed to be doing this a lot, and this was only their first date. It was not a good way to start a relationship. "It was just that we didn't know much, and it was best to keep it secret in case we alerted whoever it is we're up against."

He insisted on paying, and after realizing that she wouldn't be able to win this fight, she let him, as long as she got to pay the cab fare—he couldn't drive with one arm in a sling. It seemed to improve his mood a little. The rest of the cab ride was spent in amiable silence. She was going to have to explain a lot to him, but with the cab driver present, it was best not to say anything.

* * *

The phone was answered after only one ring. "Put me through to your master," said Eric. "His brother is calling."

"One moment," said the human on the other end in almost perfect English; only the most experienced ear would have been able to pick up the slight trace of an Italian accent. Balian only employed the very best. He only had to listen to one bar of Vivaldi on the phone before Balian picked up.

"Brother," he said in his native medieval French. "I've been waiting for you to call. What has possessed you to start selling vampire blood?"

Eric's blood would have run cold if it wasn't already cold. Then he remembered; Sibylla. "She told you, didn't she?"

"If by 'she', you mean my stepdaughter of sorts and your former lover, then yes," said Balian. "I have no problem with selling the blood if it is given consensually, but you know how Baranova and the American Authority are."

"I do, Balian," said Eric. "And that's not why I'm calling you." He glanced around. Was anyone listening? He was using the device that the metamorph had given him to stop people from tapping or tracing his calls, but if there was a vampire nearby, they could still hear his side of the conversation. No, no one was lurking behind the gravestones. He was safe for now. "Brother, do you mean what you said that night?" It had been over eight hundred years ago, but he remembered it clearly. He was sure Balian remembered it too.

"I never give my word if I don't intend to keep it," Balian replied. "The promise holds."

* * *

Sybille had been expecting Eric to call her sooner or later. Something was going on in Louisiana, and he needed to know what she knew, and he knew that she knew something. So when Elspeth knocked on the bathroom door announcing that the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five needed to speak with her urgently, she simply told her lady in waiting to give her the phone. Never mind that her baths were considered next to sacred and should never be disturbed. She'd make an exception for a couple of people.

"Eric," she said warmly. "You must really be missing me."

"Sibylla," he said. "I've seen the rune."

To anyone one else, it would have been a very cryptic thing to say, but she knew exactly what he meant. She'd made him tell her during their time together. She could be very persuasive. The vampire sat up, disturbing the bubbles and causing water to slosh over the sides of the tub. The servants could clean it up later; that's what she paid them for.

"Are you certain?" she said.

"I would never forget that rune," he said. Of course he wouldn't. What man could forget the sight of his pregnant wife lying on the rushes with her throat torn out, or the sight of his slain children huddled in the corner of the longhouse with their arms wrapped around one another for protection? What man would forget the only thing that could lead him to the retribution that he sought for those crimes? "The wolves are from Jackson."

* * *

Eric ended the call after Sibylla had promised to pull up all the information she had on every single vampire in Mississippi and send it to him on his phone. He couldn't do much without information, but that was where his own people came in.

He went back inside the house. Immediately, Sookie leapt to her feet and started telling him how she needed to be in Jackson 'like...yesterday!'. He put up a show of protesting, but when Howlett unexpectedly volunteered to go with the telepath to protect her, he 'relented'. Having a telepath and a nephilim on his side presented a distinct advantage. "Werewolves are pathologically secretive," he said. "You won't be able to get anything out of them if you barge in with the subtlety of a battering ram. You're going to need someone on the inside."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" asked Sookie.

"I have just the man," said Eric. "Isn't that fortuitous?"

* * *

It was a beautiful day. Or, it would have been beautiful if her lawn hadn't been stained with werewolf blood. At least the body parts were gone now, which was a relief. Eric had said he'd take care of it, and he had. Whatever she thought about the Viking, she couldn't deny that he always kept his word. The sole surviving werewolf had been glamoured so much that he didn't even know his own name anymore. Sookie might have felt a bit more sympathy for him if he hadn't tried to kidnap her. Besides, his new personality was much better than his old one.

The telepath placed her coffee mug in the sink and rinsed off her plate, and then searched around for something to keep her mind occupied. If she could, she would have gone to work, but this was her day off. She'd been having far too many days off these past few weeks. When this was over, she was going to have to plug in some double shifts. Marie had already left to deal with whatever she had to deal with these days as Eric's daytime public relations officer, and she had no idea where the others were.

Suddenly, she tensed. There was someone out there, and whoever he was, he was approaching the front door. His thoughts were just a jumble of images. Shifter. Wait, no, werewolf! She got ready to go and grab her shotgun. Oh, where was Logan when she needed him? Wait...the werewolf was thinking about Eric and a phone call in the middle of the night. He didn't seem to be overly fond of the vampire, which was normal. However, he didn't seem hostile. In fact, he was downright curious. Moments later, he knocked on her —unlocked— door.

"Hello?" called a deep voice with a Mississippi accent. She peered through window. A tall dark man stood on her front porch. His plaid shirt was half tucked-in, and his jeans looked really good—wait, what was she thinking? Her boyfriend was missing; she wasn't supposed to be thinking about another man's butt. Still, he had a really cute butt.

Having established that he wasn't a threat, she opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Sookie Stackhouse?" said the man. She could sense his surprise. He obviously wasn't expecting someone like her.

"Yes," she answered. "And you are...?"

"Alcide Hervaux," said the man. "Eric Northman sent me."

* * *

When Northman had called him last night, Alcide had panicked just a little. He didn't have the money, and there was no way he could borrow more. With one phone call, the vampire could have ruined his family's construction company. However, the vampire had had a strange request. He wanted Alcide to take a girl and a man to Jackson and to act as their guide as well as provide them with accommodation. If he did that, Northman had said, then the debt would be considered repaid.

It had seemed too good to be true, and Alcide had been a bit nervous about what to expect, especially when he smelled the scent of blood on the lawn. Someone had tried to do some cleaning up, but a werewolf's nose was very sensitive. Still, if he could get his old man out of debt by doing this, he was going to give it a go.

A blonde southern girl opened the door when he knocked. He was rather taken aback by this. How did a girl like her get involved with a vamp like Northman? He could smell vampire on her; the scent was faint, but it was there nonetheless. However, it wasn't the scent of the vampire who had called him.

"Can I come in?" he asked her once he'd established that this was indeed Sookie Stackhouse.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she said. "Come on in." He followed her inside the old farmhouse. It desperately needed renovation, the builder inside him observed, but it was a quaint and charming house; a relic of a bygone age, when ladies sat gossiping on each other's front porches whilst eating teacakes and drinking iced tea. The furniture was faded, but clean, and everything was very neat, although there was an ironing board leaning against the unused fireplace for some inexplicable reason.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the house. "Can I get you something to drink?" asked Sookie. Her soft drawl was sweet to the ear, and he could not help but become even more perplexed by her relationship with vampires. By rights, a girl like her shouldn't even mingle with the creatures of the night, and yet she seemed to know one intimately, judging by her scent.

"Coffee would be great, thanks," said Alcide. There were other scents in the house, belonging to creatures that he could not place. He supposed that one of them belonged to the man who was supposed to be going with her to Jackson. Northman hadn't said much about him; he hadn't even named him. "So...Eric tells me you need a guide in Jackson?"

"Yeah," she said. "Sugar and milk?"

"Two sugars, no milk, thanks," said Alcide. "Can I ask why?"

"It's a long story," said Sookie with a sigh. She sat down at the kitchen table and invited him to join her, which he did. He tucked his long legs beneath the worn wooden table —antique; it would probably fetch a pretty good price once it had been touched up a bit.

"I'm ready to listen if you wanna tell me," he said. "If you don't, that's fine."

"No, you should know," said Sookie. "You're going to be gettin' involved, after all." She took a deep breath. "My boyfriend was kidnapped by werewolves from Jackson."

Oh. Now he knew why he was here.

* * *

Logan heard voices as soon as he turned off the engine of his bike. The kids were at Merlotte's, eating brunch, and the last time he'd seen them, they'd been playing a game of pool. He would have stayed at Merlotte's for longer, but he didn't want to leave Sookie alone for too long, in case something happened whilst he was away.

There was a strange man seated at the kitchen table, and Sookie seemed to be filling him in on why they needed to go to Jackson. Was this the guy Eric had been talking about last night? At any rate, there didn't seem to be any cause for concern just yet.

"Hey, kid," he said as he stepped into the kitchen. Both Sookie and the stranger turned. Logan's brow furrowed as he caught the man's scent. Werewolf? Eric had sent a werewolf?

"Hey, Logan," said Sookie. "This is Alcide Hervaux. Eric sent him. Alcide, this is Logan Howlett. He's gonna come with us to Jackson."

Hervaux rose and offered Logan a hand. The two men shook. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Howlett," he said.

"Logan," said Logan. "Mr. Howlett makes me feel old. So you're a werewolf, huh?"

The room suddenly went silent.

* * *

How the fuck did this Logan know? Alcide tensed, and things might have gone very badly. However, it didn't come to that. "I can smell it," said Logan. "No offence, but you guys smell like wet dog."

There was a pause. Sookie's eyes were very wide, making her look a lot younger than...well, it made her look almost like a teenager. "Oh," said Logan. "My bad. That wasn't nice."

He didn't know why, but he started laughing. Perhaps it was the absurdity of it all; here he was, paying off a debt by helping a pretty girl find her missing vampire and being told that he smelled like a wet dog. Perhaps he should get a better cologne. "I can appreciate honesty, Mr. How—Logan," said the werewolf after he'd managed to stop laughing.

"Good," said Logan, "because I'm pretty blunt and I'll say what I think, barring a few occasions."

"Then I'll be blunt as well," said Alcide. "What are you? You're definitely not human."

"I'm a mutant," said Logan.

"Oh," said Alcide. He'd never actually worked with a mutant before, not because he had an aversion to working with them; he'd just never met one. "So what's your power, apart from the sensitive smell?"

"I heal quickly," said Logan. That sounded a lot like a were power, actually. "And I've got these." The werewolf nearly jumped backwards when three metal claws popped out from between the man's knuckles. They were more like knives, actually. He retracted them and the skin on his hands healed immediately, leaving no trace.

"Impressive," said Alcide. He was telling the truth. Who wouldn't find foot long metal claws to be intimidating? He'd make an excellent bodyguard, which was probably why he was going with Sookie. Seriously, where did Northman find these people?

"I might as well be honest too," said Sookie. "I'm a telepath."

Oh boy, was he in for a ride.

* * *

Logan left a note for Marie, telling her where they were going. The other kids were still at Merlotte's. He'd ask Alcide to drive by so he could tell them goodbye in person. Besides, he could do with some food for the road and that Lafayette made some really good fried chicken. He also wanted to ask Sam Merlotte to keep an eye on the kids whilst they were away. They were good kids, but he wasn't happy about leaving them all alone in a strange backwater little town with no adult supervision. Vampires did not count, especially since they seemed to cause most of the trouble, and he didn't exactly trust Remy LeBeau enough.

The bar was relatively empty during the day. Most people were at work —a lot of them worked in town— and Bon Temps was so small that there were only one or two resident alcoholics. There were a bunch of teenagers there, and Jubilee was basking in the attention of three boys whilst Kitty and Bobby were playing with the beat up jukebox. They waved at him, and he nodded, not being much of a waving person.

"Logan, hey," said Sam. "What can I get you today?"

"Just a basket of that fried chicken and a six pack to go, thanks," said Logan. "But I really came here to ask you a favour."

"Yeah?" said Sam. Logan told him about their trip to Jackson, leaving out as many details as possible. All Sam got to know was that it had something to do with Bill going missing, and that he was going to protect Sookie. Sam listened. The man was smart, and he knew that there was something else going on, but if he had questions, he didn't ask them. "Sure," he said once Logan had finished. "I'll keep an eye on 'em. They're good kids, and I don't think anything'll happen, but I'll keep an eye out."

* * *

The floor of Alcide's van was covered in sawdust and broken bits of plaster—a sign of his trade. The three of them didn't say much. That was, until Logan turned on the radio and found a station that was playing songs from Broadway musicals and operas. It turned out that he and Alcide had the same taste in music. They even got Logan to belt out a few bars from _Sweeney Todd_. It did a lot to lighten the sombre mood. For a moment, Sookie could forget that her ex-boyfriend had been keeping a file on her since before he'd met her, and that he could possibly be dead.

Logan's bike —covered with a tarp— was travelling in a trailer at the back. He had refused to go without the bike. "The last time I'd gone somewhere without that bike, I'd been stuck in a traffic jam whilst trying to rescue someone," he'd said. Sookie knew that he meant that time in Dallas.

They arrived in Jackson as the sun was setting. Alcide parked the van in an underground parking lot of an apartment block. It turned out that he owned the entire building, although most of the apartments had been rented out. However, he did keep the best one for himself. "Come in," he said after unlocking the white door with a brass doorknob.

The entire apartment had been painted in shades of beige, apart from one red feature wall. The outside of the building might have looked old, but Alcide's taste ran to the modern minimalist side. A glass top coffee table sat in the middle of the living room, there was and a red leather sofa bed opposite a very clean —and unused— fireplace. There were only a few postmodern prints on the walls and no photographs.

"Can I get you two something? A drink?" said Alcide as he went into the kitchen.

"Water would be great, thanks," said Sookie.

"I'll have the same, thanks," said Logan. "Do you mind if I smoke in here?"

"As long as you open the windows," called Alcide from the kitchen. Sookie heard the clinking of glass and the fridge being opened. Moments later, the werewolf emerged with three glasses and a jug of water with slices of cucumber in it. Sookie raised an eyebrow at the latter.

"Trust me," said Alcide. "Cucumber in water tastes great." He was right; somehow, a few slices of cucumber made all the difference.

"So what are our plans?" asked Logan. He blew out a stream of cigar smoke. "I mean, you probably don't want us to bother you for too long, and I kinda want to find Compton before someone turns him into a vampire burger or something." Sookie almost spat out her water as she imagined Bill in burger form. Gross! Logan had a knack for saying the most inappropriate things inadvertently.

"Well, you said he was kidnapped by werewolves, right?" said Alcide. Sookie nodded. "There's a were bar downtown. That's where all the weres go so maybe we'll pick up something there."

* * *

Logan just about burst out laughing when he saw the name of the bar. Lou Pines? What was it with supernaturals and puns? Fangtasia was bad enough. The inside was also as tacky as Fangtasia; there was a huge mural of a wolf howling at the moon on one wall. That was the only piece of 'art' in the bar. Hell, the Wolverine knew he didn't have very good taste, but he could sure give these people a lesson in interior decoration.

"Alcide Hervaux," drawled the bar owner. His leather hung open, revealing a tattooed chest. Almost all of his tattoos were of wolves, as if he wanted people to know what he was. So much for werewolves being 'pathologically secretive'. "It's good to see a familiar face from the old pack." Old pack? Werewolves had packs? Well, it made sense.

"With all the new wolves, I thought maybe you wouldn't have noticed our absence," said Alcide with a wry smile.

"They don't come here as often as you think," said the bar owner. "Mostly they prefer that vamp club. Josephine's."

"There's a vampire club called _Josephine's_?" asked Logan. He couldn't help himself. That sounded so...ridiculous. The bar owner's eyes swivelled to Sookie and Logan. The telepath had chosen to wear a white lacy top with a denim skirt, completing her outfit with a sunny yellow cardigan and brown leather flats. Logan usually didn't pay much attention to clothing —when he bought jeans, he bought twelve pairs in the same style, perhaps in different colours— but right now, he was very much aware of how inappropriately dressed Sookie was, at least for a place like Lou Pines.

"Who are the humans?" asked the bar owner.

"They're all right," said Alcide. "They're with me."

Sookie had noticed the way that the bar owner was looking at her. "Am I not dressed properly?" she whispered to Logan. The Wolverine didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything.

"You look like dinner," said the bar owner. "What were you thinking, Hervaux, bringing _her_ to Lou Pines?"

"Nothing will happen, Hollace," said Alcide. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"For your sake, I certainly hope so," said Darryl. He left them alone to their own devices. Sookie's eyes fell on a bunch of leather clad bikers who were wearing far too many chains and metal studs. They were laughing loudly and looking more than just a little intoxicated. Perhaps...

"I don't think they're gonna talk to me if I have two knights in shinin' armour watchin' me," said Sookie, giving Logan and Alcide a meaningful look.

"I don't think—" Logan began, but Alcide grabbed his arm.

"She's right," he said. "She'll have a better chance if she goes up to them alone. Come on. I'll buy you a drink. We'll still be able to hear and see everythin' from the bar." Logan reluctantly followed the werewolf to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks.

* * *

Her heart was hammering against her rib cage. It sounded as if she had a herd of stampeding buffalo in her chest or something. No, that was a bad image. She had to lure them to speak. She knew she had all the tools in her toolbox. She just had to learn how to use them. Sookie took a deep breath. She could do this. "What does a girl have to do around here to get a drink?" she asked.

That got their attention. All eyes turned to her. Some of the men were looking as if dessert had been served early. She was almost overwhelmed by a barrage of sexually explicit thoughts all directed at her. Some thought she looked like a marshmallow and they wanted to know how soft and gooey she was—ewww, not going there.

"Are you alone, cream puff?" asked one of the biker werewolves. He looked the part of the stereotypical redneck; bulging beer belly straining against his vest, tattoos, mean piggy eyes.

"Oh, I've been to tougher places," said Sookie with what she hoped was a bimbo-like wave of her hand. "Have you heard of a place called Fangtasia in Shreveport?"

"So you're a fangbanger, huh?" said another werewolf at the back of the group. The other weres parted to let him pass. He was tall, and he could pass for good looking if one didn't mind the fact that he oozed sleaziness. He was right up Arlene's alley, actually.

"Vampires are the strongest thing on the planet, and they're good in bed," she said with a shrug. If Marie could talk about her sex life in front of the Fellowship of the Sun, she could talk about sleeping with vampires in front of werewolves. "There's everything to like."

"That's what you think," said the biker. He was standing right in front of her now, all six feet of him. His breath smelled strongly of vodka and coke.

"Oh yeah? You know better?" she said. "Tell me about it. Tell me everything."

"Let's go somewhere private," he said as he grabbed her arm. As soon as their skin made contact, she caught an image of Bill, bound in silver and being mauled by werewolves. Yes, this one knew what had happened to Bill! The were dragged her into a backroom and locked the door behind him. This was _not_ good. She swallowed. No, she would not panic yet. She needed to find Bill and this were was going to lead her to him.

"So you know any vampires?" she asked.

"Why do you care?" he asked as he took in the sight of her body. She wished she was wearing something that gave a little more coverage, like jeans. And a Kevlar vest. Better yet, a belt with a gun loaded with silver bullets. He grabbed her and pulled her towards him. She felt his hardness through the leather of his pants. There were no more images of Bill. Instead, she saw herself screaming and naked and—

_Now_ she could panic!

* * *

As soon as he heard the biker dragging Sookie away, Logan left his place at the bar and wove his way through the throngs of drunken bikers. Some of them, seeming to realize that he was after the girl that their friend had just taken into the backroom, tried to stop him. "Where do you think you're goin', human?" one of them snarled. Human, was he? Logan didn't like attracting attention to himself, but his charge was in danger, and he had no time to try and solve this in a diplomatic manner.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way," he growled.

The biker laughed. "And what are you gonna do?" he challenged. The next moment, he was out cold. An adamantium fist could do a _lot_ of damage.

"I'm gonna do _that_," said Logan, looking down at the unconscious biker. "Anyone else?"

Unfortunately, that actually meant everyone else.

* * *

**A/N: **Our favourite vampires didn't feature much, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I'm going to be introducing new characters soon. ;)


	22. Supe Soup

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris, HBO, and Universal.

**Chapter 22: Supe Soup**

They all lunged for him at once. He caught sight of Alcide's shocked face for a split second before the impact knocked him to the floor, but not for long. Using the momentum of his fall, Logan rolled and was back on his feet before the werewolves knew what was going on. He really didn't want to use his claws yet. They were on an undercover job, like Northman said, and the claws really would ruin it. He slammed his forehead into that of one of the bikers. The man fell backwards on top of one of his fellow werewolves. Still, there was no time to gloat. He had to get to Sookie.

An arm hooked itself around Logan's throat, cutting off his air supply. The Wolverine thrust his elbow backwards. It connected with a stomach. He heard his attacker grunt in pain, although the hold on his throat did not loosen. And then he was suddenly released. Alcide had tackled the biker and thrown him to the ground. The man had a good heart, but his punching techniques needed serious work. Logan had no time to think about that. There were more bikers converging on the two of them. Well, they left him with no choice.

The claws came out with a 'snikt'.

* * *

She was terrified, she knew what was going to happen to her and it was probably going to hurt a lot. "Let go!" she screamed as she struck out at the biker, but his grip was like iron manacles around her arms. She kicked at his shins. He acted as if he hadn't even noticed as he tore off her lacy top, leaving her in her camisole and her mini-skirt.

"I think the lady asked you to let her go," said a calm voice from the back of the room. Despite her screaming and the werewolf's growling, the newcomer's voice could be heard clearly as he emerged from the shadows. There was something very familiar about him. His wide-brimmed fedora —which looked a lot like Indiana Jones' except it was black— kept his face mostly hidden in shadow. The top button of his black shirt had been left undone, allowing her a view of dark wiry chest hair, and...were those silver nunchucks in his hand?

"This ain't none of your business, buddy," growled the biker. "If you've any idea what's good for you—"

Sookie's unexpected rescuer was as fast as a vampire. Well, almost. With some move that she didn't manage to glimpse, he'd freed her from the biker's grasp, and at the same time, thrown the werewolf against the wall, causing the plaster to crack. Before Sookie could say anything, the man had grabbed her hand and was dragging her towards a hidden door that she hadn't seen before.

"Emergency exit," explained the man as he opened the door for her. "My car's out back."

"How do I know I can trust you?" demanded Sookie. "I mean, I'm grateful and all, but I don't just go around getting into the cars of random strangers."

"If I wanted to hurt you, I could have just knocked you out and dumped you in my boot, but I haven't done that," said the man. There was a groan behind the telepath; the biker was stirring, but unluckily for him, Logan and Alcide burst in at that moment, with the former brandishing his claws.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" he demanded of Sookie's rescuer.

"Helping," said the stranger, completely unperturbed by the fact that he was speaking to a man with claws. "You were doing a great job of protecting her in there." A lone car drove by. The headlights passed over the face of the man just briefly and Sookie realized why her rescuer seemed so familiar.

Logan had a doppelganger.

* * *

They all ended up being bundled into the stranger's car. His name was Van Helsing, he said, and he'd followed those werewolves' trail from Rome to Mississippi. "Not the same wolves, of course," he said as he drove. "But I'm interested in the organization, not the individual werewolves."

"May I ask why, Mr. Van Helsing?" asked Alcide.

"Do you expect an answer?" said Van Helsing.

"It would definitely be nice if I got one," said Alcide.

"I suppose it would, and there really isn't any harm in telling you," said the man as he turned onto Alcide's street. "These werewolves have appeared whenever there has been a great upheaval in human history, and they've been killing humans left and right. There's a supe behind all this, and it's my job to find out who."

"Well, I don't much like tomato soup myself," said Logan, "but what's that got to do with a werewolf killing spree?"

"Supe, not soup, Logan," said Sookie. Despite being traumatized by her experiences tonight, she smiled.

"That's what I said. Soup," said Logan.

"Supe as in supernatural, not a thick creamy liquid with tomatoes and vegetables," said Alcide patiently. "You don't like tomato soup?"

"Why? Do you?" asked Logan.

"I'm rather partial to it when it's got fish in it, actually," said the werewolf, which made Sookie giggle because werewolves and tomato soup definitely didn't sound like they went together very well. "But we're going completely off topic. So you hunt wayward supes, Mr. Van Helsing?"

"I suppose you could say that," said their driver as he pulled up in front of the apartment block.

"So maybe you could help us," said Sookie suddenly. It was worth a try. He seemed to be after the same thing as they were, except he didn't know about Bill being captured. He didn't seem like he would threaten them, although it was probably better to have a look inside his head.

Nothing. She couldn't hear him. Not one single thought. Not even a colour or an image. She frowned. That was odd. He definitely wasn't a vampire, because vampires felt like voids in her mental landscape, but it was as if Van Helsing simply wasn't there.

"It's not polite to read people's minds without asking for permission first, Miss Stackhouse," said Van Helsing calmly.

Sookie tensed. How the hell did he know? Instead of becoming angry or defensive, Van Helsing just turned around and smiled. "I've known enough telepaths to recognize when one of them is trying their tricks on me," he said, giving her a wink as if she were a small child who'd tried and failed to play a juvenile trick on an adult. "Believe me, it won't work. I've had enough practise."

"What are you?" she whispered. She could sense that the other two were nervous as well. People were always afraid of the unknown.

"Technically, I'm human," said Van Helsing. "Now, you were saying you needed help, Miss Stackhouse?"

Could she trust him? He seemed too...smooth. But on the other hand, maybe he was really something like the supe police, and if so, she could definitely use his help. "I'm looking for a vampire," she said. "He's been kidnapped by werewolves."

"One of my sources did mention something about that," said Van Helsing. "He said it was on another vampire's orders. I believe he owns that vampire club..."

"Fangtasia?" whispered Sookie. _Eric _kidnapped Bill and sent her on a wild goose chase to Jackson? What the hell?

"No," said Van Helsing. "Josephine's."

"I guess we know where we're going tomorrow night," said Logan.

* * *

Fangtasia's repairs were well underway. The debris had been cleared away and the outer walls were already completed. It was the interior that needed the most work. Marie stepped around buckets of paint and ladders and heavy machinery as she made her way towards the back of the club to Pam's office to give her daily report about Fangtasia's media coverage. She was actually supposed to deliver the report to Eric, but he was busy tonight.

She found Pam on the computer, busy finding ways to max out her maker's credit cards. "Does he know?" asked Marie after going inside and shutting the door behind her.

"I was supposed to be in New York shopping up a storm this week," said Pam without looking up from her computer screen. "He owes me. You want to help?"

"I don't have a death wish, Pam," said Marie. "I'm only turning twenty this month."

"You have no sense of adventure," said Pam with a sigh. "Well, what have you got for me?"

Marie handed over a list of notes that she'd written up in a hurry during her cab ride to Fangtasia. The piece of paper had a mustard stain from her sandwich that she'd wolfed down in the car. These days, it seemed she hardly had any time to eat; she'd already lost three pounds, even though she had McDonald's just about every second day.

"How did the live debate with the good reverend go?" asked Pam.

"It was a disaster," said Marie. What had Eric been thinking when he'd told her to accept a debate with Steve Newlin? She was a teenager and he was a senator, albeit one who belonged in a nuthouse along with Bin Laden and his ilk. "I have a tape. He just kept on throwing Bible quotes at me."

"Yes, well, his kind are always like that," said Pam as she glanced at the messy notes with unmistakeable disinterest and then set them down on her desk. "Leave the tape. I might watch it later for a laugh." She probably would have gone back to putting more shoes into her virtual shopping basket if she hadn't suddenly heard something. Marie looked up and strained her ears, wishing that she had the same hearing abilities as a vampire. If she touched one, would she get a vampire's powers? She'd wondered about that ever since Eric had almost kissed—no, she wasn't going to think about that. It was stupid to think about it. She was just another potential notch on his bedpost and she didn't even know if he'd been about to kiss her. Perhaps he'd meant to whisper something into her ear, or look at a piece of lint on her shoulder, or something...

"Stay here," said Pam, snapping her out of that disturbing train of thought. The vampire listened for a while. Marie had been around vampires long enough to recognize when one was getting nervous, and Pam was getting very nervous. The vampire reached for her phone and quickly texted something before rising to her feet and zooming out of her office in a blur, leaving the mutant behind to figure out things on her own. Now, Marie knew it would be wise to heed Pam's command, but she couldn't help being just a little curious, and a bit nervous too. She poked her head around the door and looked down the corridor. It was dark, but there was enough light for her to see. Pam was talking to what looked like a vampire SWAT team, or rather, the tiny bald man who led the vampire SWAT team. Whatever it was, this did not look good.

Having absorbed so much of Logan's life force, she now had permanently enhanced hearing, even if it was nowhere near as good as a vampire's or the Wolverine's. However, by cupping her hand to her ear, she managed to make out a couple of words of the conversation. Whoever the little bald man was, he was talking about someone selling vampire blood, or so she thought. Pam said something and then laughed. The bald man did not share her forced amusement. The members of the vamp SWAT team spread out and Marie quickly ducked back inside Pam's office. She had no wish to be found. Unfortunately, her heart was beating so loudly that she was quickly discovered, not that her hiding place was all that great.

The vampire grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet before dragging her out into the main part of the club, where the small bald man was waiting. "Magister," said the vampire. "We found this hiding in one of the offices."

"And we found these in the storage room," said another vampire. He was holding a small cooler; the type which parents of babies put milk bottles in. The bald vampire, the 'Magister', seemed to be more interested in the cooler than in the live mutant. He took the cooler from the other vampire, opened it, and took something out. It was a sealed vial full of dark red liquid.

* * *

Humans could never get anything right. He'd told Lafayette to get rid of the product, but the human still had at least six vials on him. "Look," Lafayette was saying. "It ain't easy sellin' this shit."

"Then lower the price," said Eric. It was simple to him. If something wasn't selling, then one made it cheaper so that buyers could afford to buy it.

"If it's too low, they're gonna wonder if somethin's wrong wit' it," said the human. "Look, I'm tryin' my best and I promise it'll be gone by the end of the month."

"It better be," said Eric. He was going to threaten the human —people needed incentives to do things— but his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. It was Pam.

* * *

"Vampire blood?" said the Magister, looking at Pam, who, despite her excellent poker face, looked...dismayed. "Blasphemy." Marie's mind was churning. She might be an ignorant human, but she knew they were in deep shit. Vampires abhorred the sale of vampire blood as much as humans abhorred...human trafficking. Why was there vampire blood in Fangtasia? It never occurred to her that her employers were the ones who were selling vampire blood. She remembered something about the Fellowship of the Sun from Sookie. They drained vampires—

"It's the Fellowship of the Sun," she whispered before she could think things through. All eyes turned to her; unblinking, undead vampire eyes. Damn; now had not been the right time to get rid of the brain-mouth filter. It was too late now. She had to go through with this. Then Pam came to her rescue.

"They're draining and selling vampire blood," said Pam. "We were gathering evidence to prove their guilt."

"Why does the human know this?" asked the Magister. His disdain was barely veiled.

"It's no big secret," said Pam. "Almost everyone in our world knows about what they found in Dallas."

The Magister did not look convinced. He uncorked each of the vials and sniffed them. What the hell was he doing? Marie glanced at Pam. The vampire was not looking at her at all. Had she made a grave mistake in speaking out loud? Then again, if it had been a mistake, Pam wouldn't have jumped in to help her. She and the vampire had a cordial enough relationship, but when it came down to it, she was dispensable in Pam's eyes, and probably Eric's too. If it had been a mistake, Pam would have left her to reap the consequences, and she'd probably be dead by now, or glamoured to the point of insanity, which was even worse. "This blood is all from the same vampire," said the Magister. "It's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it, to have blood from just one vampire?"

"It's not like they care if they drain vampires to death," said Marie. Where the hell _was_ her sense of self-preservation? "Maybe they only caught one this time."

"Unlikely, given the fact that they had no less than two dozen vampires in their Dallas base," said the Magister. His pale watery eyes were fixed on the girl, and she suppressed the urge to shiver. She felt the 'Logan' part of her mind start growling. No, she couldn't growl either. "Such a large amount of blood from one vampire in one batch would indicate that the vampire did this on his own volition."

"Magister, we suspect that it is the work of a vampire who loathes himself so much that he is willing to work for the fundamentalists to further their cause by supplying his blood," said Pam smoothly without batting an eyelid. "It's not the first time this has happened. We're trying to track down this vampire, but so far, we have been unsuccessful."

"Who?" asked the Magister. For the first time, Marie noticed that he had a cane, or a sceptre. It looked a lot like Lucius Malfoy's cane from the _Harry Potter_ films, actually, because there was a skull at the top and a silver tip. Silver. Seriously, was he going to—

The Magister lifted his cane and brought it very close to Pam's neck. "I asked you _who_, I believe?" he said. Two members of the vampire SWAT team seized Pam's arms. Smoke rose from her skin as the silver studs on their gloves made contact. She screamed; a terrible grating noise that resounded through the empty space of the half-renovated club. Marie had to clap her hand to her mouth to keep herself from joining in the screaming or just puking.

The front doors of Fangtasia burst open, revealing a very angry Viking warrior in a Hugo Boss suit. "Let. Her. Go," he said quietly, enunciating every word in a deliberate manner so there could be no mistake as to what he'd said. "She has nothing to say to you. If there's anyone you want to talk to, then it's me."

"Actually, your progeny and your human were singing like canaries," said the Magister. "But I'm very interested in what you have to say, Sheriff."

Oh hell. This could all go very very wrong. Marie didn't really want to look. She wished she would wake up from this nightmare. She wished she could say goodbye to her friends and her cousins and tell her how much she loved them before she got drained into a husk. She wished she'd played hooky and called in sick today.

Eric remained silent. Waiting. For what? It wasn't as if they could clue him in on the story that she and Pam had been making up. Well, Marie wasn't sure that she wasn't telling the truth, but she didn't exactly know where the blood was from either. It had just been a conjecture on her part. God, she was an idiot. She shouldn't have said anything in the first place!

Both she and Pam were staring at Eric. What came out of his mouth could doom them or save them. "Well?" said the Magister. He was growing impatient. "What have you to say for yourself?" He moved closer to Pam with his silver tipped cane.

"It was Bill Compton!" said Pam. "We suspect he's the one working with the Fellowship and selling vampire blood. We were gathering evidence against him to give him a fair trial." What the...? Bill helping the Fellowship? Not likely.

"It's true," said Eric, "but now he's gone missing and we're trying to track him down."

"Then you'd better find him before my patience runs thin," said the Magister. "You have two days. I'll take good care of your progeny, don't worry, Sheriff."

"I'm going to need my daywalker," said Eric.

"Take her," said the Magister. He'd already turned his attention back to Pam. Yes, she was right; he definitely didn't think much of breathing people, and that could possibly be his downfall. Sometimes, having a pulse didn't mean being at a disadvantage.

Eric grabbed her arm, accidentally touching the three inches of exposed skin beneath her sleeve and above her elbow-length gloves. The minute his skin made contact with hers, she felt a wall of emotion slam into her; fury, desperation, pain, helplessness, more fury. It wasn't her, but him. Her eyes widened, but by then, he'd already half-dragged her outside. "Hold on to me," he commanded. She felt one powerful arm wrap itself around her waist and she barely had time to do as she was told before she was lifted into the air.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Jackson," said Eric.

"We're just going to leave Pam?" she demanded. Perhaps she had been wrong earlier that night; maybe she _did_ have a subconscious death wish after all. She was being way to talkative.

"What else would you have me do?" growled the vampire through gritted teeth. She glanced up at him. He was on the verge of losing it.

"Kitty can walk through walls and Pyro can throw fire," she said. "Mystique can probably get everyone to Shreveport before midnight. They can all get in there and get out before dawn."

She felt him land. They were in a field somewhere, and the only creatures that had noticed them were a couple of sleepy cows in the next field. They mooed in protest and ambled off further away. He set her on her feet and looked at her with an unreadable

"You want to _jailbreak_ Pam?" he said.

"Don't you?" she asked.

* * *

As he looked down at her earnest, young and innocent face, he didn't know whether to tell her just how ridiculous her idea was or how much he approved of it. "You want to do it, don't you?" she asked again. "You care about her, and you're worried." He was startled. Most humans couldn't read vampires, unless they were very young vampires or very hapless vampires. He was neither. "I felt your emotions, when you accidentally touched my skin," she admitted with a wince.

She did? So he hadn't just been the one who'd felt _her_ emotions then. That spike of panic definitely hadn't been his. It was fascinating, but also a little alarming at the same time. He cherished the privacy of his emotions and thoughts. Actually, scrap that. He cherished the idea that he was emotionless, which was not the case. Nonetheless, he did try to convince himself and everyone else that he had a heart of stone. He would have to worry about this later, however. "Do you know how dangerous it is?" he said. "Pam will be a fugitive, and any hope you'll have of securing an alliance with the current Authority will be gone."

"She won't be a fugitive after we prove your innocence," she said, looking so very sincere. It would be a shame to have to ruin her trust in him. However, it was pointless to hide the truth from her. She was mired in this now; she'd helped to sell the story about Compton working for the Fellowship of the Sun.

"I'm not innocent," said Eric. "I am selling that blood."

"That's not funny," said Marie.

"It wasn't meant to be."

* * *

Her boss was a drug dealer, her sort-of friend was probably being tortured by a sadistic vampire law enforcer, and Eric hadn't died or gone into a coma when he'd touched her skin. It was a lot to absorb all at once. "You're insane," she whispered. "And why are you telling me?"

"Because you're in this now," said Eric. "You helped to lie to the Magister, and now you want to jailbreak my second in command."

"You're right," said Marie. "Can you take me to some place with cell phone reception, please? I need to make a couple of phone calls."

* * *

Mystique rolled her eyes as she listened to Rogue on the other end. Seriously, they seemed to be doing all the helping in this alliance. She couldn't name one instance where Eric Northman and his horny second-in-command had helped them. But for some reason, Rogue seemed rather loyal to her vampire boss, and the metamorph actually liked Rogue against her better judgement. That kid had some nerve, and she was almost as mad as the Wolverine. Still, this was a very one-sided relationship, and she made a note to warn Rogue the next time she got to see the girl face to face. "You do realize that the vampire owes us a lot, don't you?" she asked the girl.

"He saved my life," she said. Mystique frowned. When was that?

"Fine," she said, "but you tell him _we_ expect some return on our investment."

"He can hear you," said Rogue.

"Good, then he can listen to this too. You do realize that if you pull off this heist, we'll never actually establish an alliance with this higher vampire authority, right?"

"Perhaps not the current one," said Rogue.

Did she want to know what that meant? No. Mystique decided that she did not. Not at present, anyway. She sighed. "I'll be there in an hour and a half. It's probably a good thing you called when you did. Sabretooth's been itching to kill something for a while. It would be healthy for him to unleash some of his psychopathic bloodlust."

* * *

It wasn't like Marie to bail out on him without telling him first. Remy glanced at the ancient grandfather clock. It was almost eight. She was supposed to be home by seven thirty. Tonight was a special night, as she'd invited him over to formally meet her friends and her cousin Jason. His phone started to ring and he quickly answered it. "Where the hell are you?" he asked.

"Just outside Shreveport," came Marie's reply. "I'm not sure about the exact address. Listen, Remy, I'm afraid we'll have to change our plans tonight." Remy's eyes widened as she told him what the new plan was. That was _not_ what he would call a cosy date, but what could he do? Rescuing Pam seemed to be a little more important to Marie, not that he actually blamed her. She had a good heart, and the vampires were exploiting it.

"Meet me outside Frost's Gallery," he said, and then he hung up without another word. He wasn't sure he could keep civilized for long. This was the second time that vampire business had interrupted their plans, and this was only the second proper date they were having.

"She still not here yet?" asked Jason as he poked his head out of the kitchen. He had a piece of fried chicken in his hand.

"She's in trouble," said Remy as he flipped his phone shut. "How fast is your truck?"

* * *

Marie looked at her phone and then shook her head before pressing the 'end call' button. Eric had taken her back to the outskirts of Shreveport. He wanted to be there when the raid happened, in case his allies thought he was making them do all the work. Obviously, he couldn't let the other vampires know that he had a part in this because that would make _him_ a fugitive. However, he could tell them the layout of his own damn club and he could probably pinpoint Pam's exact location too. If the vampires didn't see him there, he could blame it all on Sophie-Anne. The mutants were technically her allies, after all. On paper, at least. The evidence mattered.

"They're coming," she said. "Remy didn't seem too happy about it, though."

"I heard," said Eric. This was it. He was actually going up against the authority. There weren't many people in North America who were willing to do that, and of the ones he could think of, they were all royalty. This was the type of thing that Sibylla would do and get away with. Balian, definitely, since he was his own authority and had no superior, but Sibylla was still technically under the control of the American Vampire Authority, although he sometimes wondered whether it was actually the other way around. Money and connections meant everything, no matter whether you were human, vampire or otherwise. Sibylla had a lot of both. "We should go. You don't want to keep them waiting." He held out a hand to her. She didn't need to be told again. He hooked his arm around her waist and she put her arms around him just as he lifted into the air.

* * *

Remy made just one phone call. There was only one person he could think of to call in a situation like this, and that was Emma Frost. She now owned an art gallery in Shreveport and tried to lead a human life, but if there were lives at stake, she would usually help him. He asked her to wait for him outside her gallery, which was only a few blocks away from Fangtasia. That was where they were supposed to meet up with Eric and Marie.

"You must really care about this girl if you're willing to go up against vampires to help her, even though she's bailed out on you twice," said Emma as soon as she saw Remy. He hadn't seen her in a while, and she looked good. Her blond hair was cut in a fashionable bob, and the tank top and loose jeans she was wearing only highlighted how fit she was.

"She's quite something," said Remy. "I really want us to have a chance."

"It seems a little one-sided to me," said Emma, folding her arms across her chest.

"Hey, that's not fair," said Jubilee. Of course she would defend her friend. "You might not know it, but this alliance is important, and saving people is also important. Rogue just knows her priorities, that's all."

"I hope she knows her priorities," said Remy.

Jubilee opened her mouth again, probably to say something acerbic, but she was interrupted by the spectacular arrival and landing of one Eric Northman. He had his arm around Marie's waist and she was clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

* * *

Josephine's had a fucking dress code. Logan tugged at his shirt and pulled at his jacket, feeling awfully self conscious. As far as he was concerned, he looked like a penguin in his borrowed suit. Alcide was more or less the same size as him, so he hadn't had to go shopping, thank God —not that he believed in the existence of an omnipotent deity. If there was such a thing as God, then he wouldn't have to wear suits. He turned in front of the mirror one more time, thankful that the only people who would see him would be Sookie and Alcide, and possibly that Van Helsing fellow. If any of his kids saw him now, he would never ever live it down. Luckily, they would never find out.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Logan, you ready?" asked Alcide on the other side.

"A man is never ready for public humiliation," Logan replied.

"Oh, come on," said Alcide. "It's just a suit. I wear them all the time. You're lucky you don't have to wear a tie."

"If anyone tries to make me wear a tie, I swear I'll poke a hole in them," growled Logan. "Or three." He opened the door. "Well?"

"The hair," said Alcide immediately.

"Sorry, bub, but that's the way it grows, and I ain't cuttin' it," said Logan stubbornly.

"It just...stands out a bit," said Alcide. "We're supposed to be undercover. Let me get you some hair gel."

"Yours?"

"No. My ex-girlfriend's."

Oh boy.


	23. Plans in Motion

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 23: Plans In Motion**

There was a trapdoor in the store room that led down to the basement, and there were four vampire guards there. Piece of cake, really, considering the fact that she could walk through walls. "I'm going in," Kitty whispered into her mouthpiece. She was crouched behind a car on the opposite side of the road.

"We're ready," replied Bobby. "I hope the vampire has insurance to cover this, though."

"Insurance is the least of my worries," said the vampire in question. He was hiding on a rooftop somewhere with Rogue, watching all the proceedings and telling them where everything was. They mostly knew what was going on inside the main part of the club; Mystique had tapped the security cameras there, but there weren't security cameras everywhere. "Pam is in the basement. She's in pain. The Magister is probably in there with her."

"I'll be ready to distract those undead fangers," said the gleeful voice of Pyro.

"Those 'undead fangers' can probably break your neck before you can even light a spark, matchstick," growled Eric.

Kitty heard Bobby snort. Boys.

* * *

A ball of flame rolled towards the front doors of Fangtasia, startling the armoured guards. They hadn't been prepared for an attack at all, much less an attack by fire-throwing mutants. Eric heard their shouts. Most of them rushed out to see what was going on. Some got burned, others got frozen, and a few melted into bloody pulp after the Cajun fired a few B pencils at them. Death by pencil was definitely not the best way to go.

"I'm in," said the girl —Kitty Pryde, her name was. "The room has a desk with papers and Tabasco hot sauce on it—"

"My office," said Eric. "The basement's just underneath your feet."

* * *

He felt powerful; so powerful. Vampires were probably the most dangerous creatures on earth, but he was even better. He could burn them, and they were burning. The flames were fuelled by his glee, his pride. He was a god among insects, Magneto had said. He'd never forgotten that. He threw another jet of flame into the blaze. A car parked by the curb exploded as the fuel tank ignited. Another car caught fire as it was thrown high into the sky by magneto. Molten bits of scrap metal fell down. The destruction was beautiful.

* * *

It was like watching the volcanoes in Iceland. He'd seen them once, and they had been magnificent, watching the forces of nature at work. He'd been humbled by the sight of ice and molten rock and flames and sulphuric fumes rising into the air. That boy, for all his cocky arrogance, was pretty magnificent too, even if he couldn't have done half the damage without the help of the metal mangling one.

"Your friends are good," Eric remarked to Marie.

"They're good at destroying things," said Marie. "And Pyro and Magneto are not my friends."

"You share the same enemies now," said Eric, sparing her a sideways glance. He could understand why she didn't like Magneto, although she had to learn to see the bigger picture now that they'd come to this. "In my book, that makes you friends, or allies, at the very least."

"He tried to kill me," said Marie. "And he would try it again if he thought his machine still worked."

"The important thing to remember, Miss D'Ancanto, is that his machine does not work anymore and therefore he won't be trying to kill you anytime soon," said Eric, turning his eyes back to what was going on in Fangtasia. It would take at least a million dollars to repair the damage done to his club. These mutants were doing more damage than any group of fundamentalists ever could. It was worth it. He would pay ten times that amount to see that Pam got out of the Magister's sadistic grip. Hell, he'd pay more than that.

* * *

She was burning everywhere. She could not even locate the sources of her agony. Eric would save her soon. He always did. She trusted her maker with her entire being. He was the only thing in the world she trusted this much.

The guards were shouting outside. They were talking about fire and explosions and pencils being fired at them.

"It's probably those human vermin again," said the Magister disinterestedly as he donned his thin leather gloves. "They're not going to get very far."

Pam wondered what he would do next, and then decided that she didn't really want to know. There was nothing she could do about it anyway. He wasn't torturing her for information. He was torturing her for the sake of torturing someone. Her only solace lay in the hope that Eric and his brother would one day get their hands on Vladimir Baranova. The Sicilian had learned _his_ torture techniques from the Turks, who were much more creative than the Spanish Inquisition had ever been. Eric wasn't so bad himself, even if he did veer towards more classic methods. That image was the only thing that kept her from giving into her fear and her pain. She was probably never going to see it. The Sicilian didn't tend to interfere with North America and Eric didn't exactly have the power to offend the Magister and get away with it. Her maker could have been a king, but he hadn't wanted that responsibility. "I have a gift for you, Miss Ravenscroft," continued the Magister.

"It's Ms," said Pam, "and how very kind of you, Magister."

"Would you like to see it?" asked the bald vampire.

"I would love to," said Pam. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Tiffany's. She'd recognize that box anywhere. "How did you know I was a Tiffany's girl?"

"It was a good guess," said the Magister, opening the box and showing her what was in there. Stirling silver hoops.

"Oh, how lovely," said Pam. "They match my chains."

"Yes," said the Magister. "I hadn't thought of that. Would you allow me the honour of putting them on you, Ms. Ravenscroft?"

Pam was about to reply, but something dropped on the Magister from above. Whatever it was, it had come right through the ceiling. Baranova dropped the box in surprise and was about to attack whatever it was that had fallen on him, but for some inexplicable reason, he was sinking into solid concrete. The female vampire's brow furrowed. There was a girl on top of the Magister, and she was the one who was pushing him down into the less than hygienic floor of Fangtasia's basement. Soon, only the crown of his head and his waving hands were above the floor. The rest of him was buried.

"Come on," said the girl. "You're Pam, right?" The female vampire didn't recognize her.

Instead of undoing the chains, as Pam had expected her to, the girl simply put her arms around her. She felt the silver chains fall through her without harming her. What the fuck? Still, she wasn't going to look at a gift box's label, or whatever that saying was. "You're a mutant, aren't you?" she said. "I know that uniform."

"I'm an X-Man," said the girl. "Or an X-Woman, whichever way you choose to see it. Target secured. Coming out in twenty seconds." The last part was not directed at her, but at whoever was at the other end of her mouthpiece. With one arm still wrapped around Pam's waist, the girl raced for the steps. Well, as much as a human could race. The trapdoor was locked, but she just walked right through it, taking Pam with her. It was the strangest sensation. She felt for certain that she was going to crash into the door, but the steel felt like nothing but air. They emerged in Fangtasia's store room. No one was there because they were all outside trying to deal with whatever else the mutants came up with. Instead of going through the front door, the girl walked through the wall just as a truck drove up.

"Perfect timing," said the currently-blonde Mystique in the driver's seat. Beside her, Sookie Stackhouse's hapless brother was gaping at the way the mutant and the vampire had emerged from a very solid looking wall. Pam remembered him; he'd actually tried to ask a vampire for V. She wondered what he was doing here, and then decided she didn't care enough. She and the mutant girl climbed into the back of the pick-up and then they were off, speeding into the night with none of the Authority guards any wiser as to what had actually happened. Oh, they would find the Magister soon enough, and they would have to drill him out of the concrete.

* * *

The sense of relief that he felt when he saw his child surprised him. She didn't exactly run up to him and throw herself at him —vampires did not have such ridiculous displays of sentiment, unless said vampire was Bill Compton, and even Compton only did it with Sookie— but they did exchange a significant look. "You all right?" he whispered. In the harsh lighting of the airstrip, she looked haggard and...dead.

"I'm fine," she said. They only needed those words. What they had between them could not be expressed with the limited number of words in any human language. "What next?"

"You're going to New York," said Eric. "You'll go into hiding until I tell you it's safe to come out."

"And you?" said Pam.

"As far as anyone is concerned, I wasn't here tonight," he said. "I was on my way to Jackson with my daywalker to locate one Bill Compton." He would glamour the workers at the airstrip —there were only two at this time of night. They wouldn't remember the mutants' jet or the two vampires who'd been there. They would leave no trace.

* * *

"I don't like the idea of you going with him," said Remy. His dark eyes bored into hers and he was gripping her gloved hands very tightly. "I don't trust him."

"I kinda got myself into this mess, Remy," said Marie. "And I think he needs me."

"And you don't think I need you? I want us to work, Marie, but I can't do it all alone," he said. Marie bit her lip. What was she supposed to say? She had been neglecting her relationship with Remy, putting work and vampire business first, but the vampire-mutant alliance was more important than her own personal relationships, right?

"I want us to work too," she said, "but how are we gonna have a life together if we're getting registered one moment and being hustled into concentration camps the next?" Yes, she'd glimpsed Magneto's sentiments when he'd touched her skin, only his thoughts had been much clearer than Eric's, or even Logan's. He'd _wanted_ her to know why he'd been sacrificing her, not that it had made him feel any warmer towards him. Still, the other mutant's fears made sense. "We need the vampires, and I need you to trust me. I care about you. You've got to know that."

"I do know," said Remy. "But you can care about lots of people. I need to know where I stand with you."

"To be honest, I'm as confused as you are," said Marie. "I've never been in a relationship with someone who doesn't share at least three classes with me. But we'll make things work. Once this mess is sorted, we'll make it happen." Perhaps it was the leftover adrenaline from tonight. Perhaps she really wanted him to know that she did care about him and wanted him to be a part of her life. Marie leaned forwards and gently brushed his lips with hers. It was a brief touch, but electrical. He jerked backwards; his eyes were wide and his lips were slack as he gaped at her. Had she been too bold? Too risky?

"I'll talk to you when I next see you," he said. "Look after yourself, Marie, and be careful."

"You too," she said. "And I will." He hurried for the jet. Mystique was getting impatient. Marie stared at Remy's retreating back, and then at the closed hatch of the jet as it rose up and then disappeared into the night. She wondered what he was thinking. However, there was no time at present to dwell on her relationship problems. Her boss was waiting. It was never a good idea to keep one's boss waiting.

* * *

The wind tore through her hair. She'd buried her face in Eric's shirt, not because she was afraid of heights —she'd been working towards getting a pilot's license, so heights were not a problem for her— but because she didn't want to swallow any wind or bugs. Plus, didn't have any goggles, so she wouldn't actually be able to open her eyes anyway.

Eric's chest was cold and hard —but not like marble, the way the _Twilight_ vampires were described. No, he was more like...well, it was hard to describe. He wasn't exactly very cold —more like room temperature— and it wasn't a very unpleasant situation to be in, actually, even if one part of her mind was screaming at her that it was very awkward for her to be clinging to her _boss_ like this. However, that was the rational part of her mind, and since her frontal lobe —the part where all rational thought was contained— was about the size of a peanut or walnut at this point in her life, it was pretty easy to ignore it.

"He was afraid of you," he suddenly said.

"Remy?" she asked with her face still buried in his shirt. It occurred to her that it was a weird way to have a conversation, but Eric didn't seem to care, so she didn't see why she should care either. He'd started the conversation, after all.

"He was afraid of kissing you," said Eric. Yes, that had been what she'd thought too.

"Most people are," she said. "I'm used to it. My mother didn't even want to be in the same room with me after she found out what I was. Everyone's afraid of me to some extent, and with good reason."

"I don't see the reason," said Eric. His voice reverberated in his chest and she could feel the vibration. She suddenly realized that they were descending. Were they in Jackson already? That was fast. He set her on the ground, and she felt the dead leaves crackle beneath her feet. They were in a park somewhere near the outskirts of the city. There was a homeless man sleeping on one of the benches, but apart from him, they were totally alone. "I'm not afraid to do this," said Eric as he slipped his cool hand under her chin and tilted her head backwards so that she was staring straight at him. His blue eyes were like dark pools, inviting her to drown herself in them. Before she realized it, he'd bent down and his lips were on hers, insistent.

It was instinct. She opened her mouth. Her brain seemed to have turned to mush, and that protesting frontal lobe of hers had been drowned out by her screaming hormones. She wanted him. She'd never felt so turned on before. Wait...that wasn't just her. She was feeling Eric's emotions again, not that she wasn't responsible for at least some of the horniness. Her emotions, his emotions, they swirled and mingled, making her utterly confused and unable to think. She had never had this level of connection with someone without almost killing them before. There was no fear, no pain; there was only desire.

"You owed me that kiss," he whispered as he broke it off.

"What for?" she managed to whisper.

"For many reasons," said Eric. "Let's just go with saving your life, shall we?"

* * *

The _goblin_ at the door —not gnome, not elf, not orc, and definitely not pixie— was looking Logan up and down. The Wolverine decided to give him the one over as well. The creature's skin was grey and gnarled, and almost reptilian in its appearance. His yellow eyes seemed to glow a bit, although it could just be the effect of the light reflecting off the irises. He was short; he only came up to the bottom of Logan's sternum, but what he lacked in size, he made up for with his very unpleasant looking teeth. Finally, the goblin jerked his head at Logan, allowing him to go through. The others were already waiting within; they had absolutely no problem with the goblin.

"It's the hair," said Sookie flatly. "Even with the gel, it won't stay down."

"I guess I put in that gunk for nothing, then," muttered Logan. This was not a good start to the evening. Josephine's was much classier than Lou Pine's; much classier. Even Fangtasia looked tacky in comparison—actually, Logan had always thought that Fangtasia looked tacky. Maybe Northman could learn a thing or two from the vampire who ran this place.

The main part of the club was lit up by oval wall lamps that looked like little bubbles of light. The walls had been painted red, and they had a swirling texture which made them look as if they had scales. Everything else was black. Black leather seats, a black stage and a bar of black marble. There was a life-sized granite statue of a man standing in one corner of the club in the middle of an indoor pond that had been designed to look natural. It looked a bit like Michelangelo's David, except it wasn't really. One side of the statue depicted half of an angel, with a saintly countenance and one feathered wing. The other half, however, was a hideous fanged beast, with talons and a membranous wing stretched over thin bony extensions. It was more than enough to give a kid —or even a teenager— nightmares.

The music wasn't overly loud, and it seemed to be the more popular stuff instead of the goth songs that Northman liked to play in his club. There were some songs from the fifties, and even some jazz. This was a club that catered to vampires and werewolves, as well as whatever else existed out there, instead of to humans who wanted a supernatural safari. It was easy to spot the biker werewolves in a place like this. They were the ones who weren't dressed appropriately. Logan wondered why the dress code didn't apply to them. It wasn't fair that _he _had to wear a suit.

'Disguise,' he kept on chanting to himself. This was a disguise. An uncomfortable one, but a necessary one. It could have been worse. He could have been wearing yellow spandex. Whoops, he must have dwelt on the image of himself in yellow spandex standing in the middle of Josephine's dance floor for too long, because Sookie let out a snort. "You don't really _have_ a yellow spandex suit, do you?" she whispered.

"What's this about a yellow spandex suit?" said Alcide.

"Just a nightmare of mine," said Logan. The biker wolves were having a celebration of some sort. A lot of them were already quite intoxicated, judging by the loud harsh laughter and the nonsense that they were saying.

Alcide made a strangled sound in his throat. Logan looked at him oddly. The werewolf looked like he was either going to have an aneurysm or kill something.

"What's wrong?" asked Sookie.

"My ex," Alcide managed to whisper. "I shouldn't be here. This is her engagement party."

"Oh hell," said Logan. "You need a drink. A strong one. Come on, Sookie." The two of them pretty much escorted the pale Alcide to the bar. Alcide ordered five vodka shots and he downed them with barely a pause between each. Sookie sat sipping her gin and tonic and looking worried, whilst Logan nursed his bottle of Molson's.

"I'm fine," said the werewolf. "You two don't need to watch me like you're afraid I'm going to off myself or something. I knew she was engaged. I just...just..."

"You still care about her," said Sookie softly.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" asked Alcide.

Logan opened his mouth but then shut it again without saying anything. He'd been about to say that Alcide was a little bit pathetic to mope over a girl who obviously didn't know how to appreciate him, but that would be the pot calling the kettle black, in a manner. Logan had loved a woman who'd been in love with another man, and she'd never really reciprocated his feelings. Instead, he observed the group more closely. A young woman in a tight crop top and leather shorts was in the centre of attention. So this was the happy bride to be. She was completely drunk and seemed to be doing a pole dancing routine using another biker as a pole. She'd spotted her ex-fiancé and seemed to be performing this dance for his benefit. Logan suppressed the urge to growl.

Sookie suddenly leaned in closer to Alcide, who looked rather startled at this turn of events. "What?" said Sookie. "It's not right that she gets to rub her engagement party in your face. I'm your date tonight." She jerked her head at the dance floor. There were only a few couples there, swaying to a slow blues tune. "Come on. Let's dance." She didn't wait for Alcide to decline before she dragged him onto the dance floor and put her arms around his neck. The werewolf was startled, but after a while, he placed his hands on her waist, leaving Logan to guard their abandoned drinks.

"They make a good couple," said a voice to his left. The Wolverine nearly popped his claws in surprise.

"Fuck!" he said, earning a few odd looks. "Have you ever learned that it's not good to sneak up on people, especially not people who look just like you?"

"I thought with your enhanced hearing, you'd have heard me," said Van Helsing. It was not fair. _He_ looked perfectly comfortable and handsome in a suit. "But obviously, I'm too good at my job."

"What are you doing here anyway?" asked Logan.

"Buying a drink and enjoying the music, just like everyone else," said the man. He waved down the bartender and ordered a rum and coke. "Unfortunately, they do not serve absinthe here."

"That's strong stuff," said Logan, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at Van Helsing.

"I can handle it," said Van Helsing. He gave Logan a knowing look. "You can too."

"Okay, enough with the small talk," said Logan. How the hell did this guy know so much? "What the hell are you?"

"Like I said, I'm human."

"Bullshit. No human can sneak up on me."

"That's a very broad statement, Logan." Van Helsing took a sip of his drink. "There are a lot of humans in this world. Some of them are bound to have some surprises hidden up their sleeves."

* * *

It was nice to lean against a man's chest and actually hear a heartbeat. They were just putting on a show, but Sookie couldn't help but think how nice it would be if they could do this more often. Crazy Sookie and a guy who breathed. It was a novel idea. However, she couldn't afford to daydream at the moment. They were here for a reason. She cast her mind out, towards the biker weres. Half of them were thinking about having all sorts of weird and twisted sex with Debbie—eww, moving right along— and another half were thinking about their weekly shot of V, which was coming from the source tomorrow. The Master was going to be there...

Sookie lifted her head from Alcide's chest suddenly, causing the werewolf to look down at her with concern. "Is something the matter?"

"I'll tell you later," she whispered. "But I think I've gotten enough tonight."

"Let's go, then," the werewolf murmured. He put a hand on the small of her back and escorted her out of the club. Along the way, he managed to catch Logan's eye. Sookie was surprised to see Van Helsing there, looking very dashing in his tux. She hadn't even noticed him coming in. The two men paid for their drinks, left a generous tip, and followed them out the door.

* * *

They were flying again. This time it was just a little more awkward, to be in Eric's arms. He wanted _her_. Well, he wanted to have sex with her. Still, it was unthinkable. He could have had any woman he wanted, but somehow, he wanted the unremarkable girl with killer skin who already had a boyfriend, albeit one who was afraid to kiss her. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You need a place to stay, and unless you have a better idea, I thought I would take you to Alcide Hervaux's apartment," said Eric.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"He's your cousin's werewolf guide in Jackson," said Eric. "Howlett will be there, so you'll be in safe hands."

"Where are you gonna stay?"

"After I drop you off, I'll be requesting an audience with Russell Edgington, the King of Mississippi," Eric replied. "He may or may not invite me to stay at his residence. If he doesn't, I will check into a hotel." He landed on the rooftop of an old fifteen storey building. From here, she could see the skyline of Jackson clearly. Lights of every colour winked at her. The sky scrapers loomed in the distance like glowing pillars. "I want you to take some of my blood," he said suddenly.

"What?" said Marie, completely dumbfounded.

"I want you to have some of my blood," Eric repeated.

"Isn't it usually the other way around?" she asked.

"We could do a blood exchange if you'd prefer," he said with a smirk. Then he became more sombre. "We are in foreign territory, little Marie. If you take my blood, I will be able to track your movements more easily. The enemy we are pursuing is dangerous and very powerful. Your cousin, you, Howlett; you are all in danger, and it would be better if I knew what was going on with your side of things."

"So it's like a GPS?" asked Marie.

"In a manner," said Eric, "although vampire blood does more than a GPS tracking device. There will be side effects."

"Like what?"

"You'll be stronger, you'll have improved eyesight, hearing, speed, and your libido will increase." He said that last part with a knowing smirk. Marie blushed. "You'll be more attracted to me than you already are."

"Oh." Her face was so hot that she suspected she could fry an egg on it, not that she'd actually try that. Eric's grin only grew wider. Damn him!

"I'll know your exact location for the rest of your life," the vampire continued, "and I'll be able to sense your emotions."

"Um...that's not good," said Marie.

"Why is that?" he asked. His voice was distinctively cooler.

"I have really bad mood swings each month...y'know," said Marie. God, this was embarrassing. She wondered if any other employee ever had to talk about sex drives and PMS with their boss as a part of official business.

Eric stared at her, and then he burst out laughing.

"Well," he said between chuckles. "If I show signs of PMS, we'll both know who's responsible."

* * *

Pam had never flown in a jet like this before. The design of the interior was sorely lacking in class, and, horrors of horrors, if they didn't arrive in New York before dawn, she'd have to sleep in the cargo hold. Still, considering the alternative, she wasn't ungrateful to be here. Besides, there was very little time to dwell on bad interior design. Eric might have thought that she would stay in New York and hide in some fancy school, but he hadn't expressly commanded her as her maker, so that left her a lot of leeway, and she had plans.

The first thing on her agenda was paying a visit to Sybille Royale. It would be rude not to check in with the local ruler, and although the Sheriff who ruled Salem County was not the Queen of New York, it wouldn't do any harm to visit Sybille. Moreover, her hiding place was a _school_, and she despised snotty little miniature humans. Eric might find them to be amusing, but she did not see how they could be amusing. To her, they were pests, along with rodents and cockroaches. Scrap that. She preferred cockroaches. They made a satisfying crunching sound when she stepped on them, and they did not whine.

But, back to business. Her visit to Sybille would not just be a social call. Not only had Sybille been her employer prior to her becoming the co-owner of Fangtasia —she'd been the Queen's personal shopper, and that had been a brilliant job; she'd gotten to kick humans and play with clothes— but she knew that Sybille and Eric's relationship transcended politics, and if there was anyone in North America who could and would help Eric with whatever it was he was going to be dealing with in Jackson, Sybille would be that vampire. Oh, Eric would probably be furious if he found out what she was planning, but in the end, they were family. Blood really mattered when one was a vampire.

"We're here," came the metamorph's voice over the intercom. "Please put on your seatbelts and prepare for landing."

* * *

Jason had to pinch himself. Twice. Nope, he wasn't dreaming. He really had seen someone throw fireballs at a vampire bar and he had really flown in a UFO to New York. And yes, that hot blonde in the sequined mini-dress had really changed into a scaly blue naked woman with red hair who scared the shit out of him. And Marie's friends were really cute, especially in their tight uniforms.

"Come on, sexy beast," said the blue woman. She really did have a killer body. Maybe he could overlook the fact that she was blue and scaly and scary as hell. "Time to get off the jet. I'm not leaving you alone with my baby." Shit. She was naked, and she piloted UFOs. That was _sexy_.

"You own this thing?" asked Jason, waggling his eyebrows and putting on his best 'come get me' look. Yes, he could definitely overlook the blue part. In fact, it was kinda hot once you got used to it.

"It's the school's," said the blue lady. That immediately cooled down his libido. He didn't care that this school had a UFO. School just wasn't cool, man! He'd hated school, apart from football and the cheerleaders in the cute little mini skirts, but that still hadn't made up for tests and essays, and math! Wait, did they have math in schools for...

"Are you an alien?" he asked.

* * *

**A/N: **Woo! Another one! I've surprised myself, actually, with the amount I've written. The next chapter probably won't come as quickly.


	24. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 24: Revelations **

Sookie was glad to be able to take off her high heels —even if they were only two inches high— and slip into one of Jason's old football t-shirts. She liked dressing up as much as any other girl, although probably not as much as Pam or Marie, but sometimes it could be a pain in the ass. She got ready to climb into bed, but then screamed when she saw someone floating outside her window. Or, rather, two someones. Eric was carrying Marie in his arms and her cousin seemed to be clinging to him for dear life, although considering they were floating about one hundred and fifty feet off the ground, she could hardly blame the girl.

Upon hearing her scream, Logan and Alcide barged into the room. The former had his claws brandished and seemed to be ready for a fight. "What the...?" he said when he saw what had made Sookie scream. He retracted his claws and opened the window. "What are you two doin' here in midair?"

"Waiting for you to invite me in," replied Eric. He turned his eyes to Alcide, who seemed to be contemplating the pros and cons of letting a vampire into his house. Werewolves and vampires didn't like one another; they'd already established that. However, they were working together, so maybe the relationship wasn't as bad as...say...Israel and Palestine's.

"Come on in," said the werewolf reluctantly at last. Eric set Marie down on the floor first before folding his six foot four frame and slipping in through the three foot window.

"What's going on?" asked Logan. He narrowed his eyes, firstly at the vampire, and then at Marie. Out of the two, she was more likely to tell the truth.

"There was a raid on Fangtasia tonight," said Eric. "Two raids, actually; a raid and a counter-raid."

"By the police?" asked Sookie.

"You could say that," said Eric.

* * *

"One very important question," asked Logan after Eric had given them a very brief rundown of that night's events in Shreveport. He was sure the vampire had left something out —make that a lot of things— but one thing in particular was bothering him. "Why is it illegal for vampires to sell their own blood?" He was met with four sets of blank looks. He didn't get it. It was a completely valid question! "I mean, it's illegal to force humans to give blood and organs, but it ain't illegal for them to voluntarily give blood and organs. What's the difference?"

"Apart from the fact that human blood is not a drug?" said Eric. "According to some ancient law, vampire blood is sacred and misuse of the blood is considered to be blasphemy, but this is completely beside the point. The point is, I now have to fix this before Pam and I become the most wanted vampires in America, and I came here to remind you that the enemy you face is very dangerous, devious, and powerful. I won't be able to help you if you get caught."

"And my cousin is here because...?" said Sookie. Oh yeah. That was an important question too. Logan had almost forgotten about that. After all, it seemed natural that Marie should get involved in these things. If she hadn't gone to Louisiana, _he_ would never have met Bill Compton and conceived the idea of a mutant-vampire alliance, and none of this would be happening, at least not to them.

"She's my daywalker," said Eric. Hmm...what happened to that nasty Durnham fellow? The vampire ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he was tired —which he wasn't, because it was just three in the morning; the sun wouldn't be rising for at least two hours. "As much as I would love to stay and chat, I must be going. And remember, I was never here." With that, he flew off, faster than the human eye could follow. Vampires.

* * *

Marie had a feeling that she had a lot of explaining to do. She wasn't the only one. Alcide had excused himself, leaving them alone in the living room so that they could talk privately amongst themselves. Sookie, in particular, was not looking pleased with her. She'd forgotten what it had been like to have parental figures who cared about what she did and had certain expectations for her. Logan simply expected her to do what she felt was right, and he never actually told her what she had to do or could not do. As for what was right and what wasn't...well, he trusted that she knew; she often felt he overestimated her. Sookie, on the other hand, had been raised with certain expectations and standards. Besides, she knew more about vampires than Marie and Logan combined, although Marie was catching up.

"You'd better tell me the truth, young lady," said Sookie. "Why are you really here? Why didn't he let you go with everyone else to New York?" She was probably also pissed off about the fact that they'd gotten Jason involved with vampire business. Jason had enough trouble dealing with his own business.

"Like he said, I'm his daywalker. I signed a contract," said Marie.

"It's much more than a contract, Marie," said Sookie. Man, she could be perceptive. "You're different. You feel different."

"You smell different too, kid," said Logan. Oh lord.

"You promise you won't get mad?" she asked.

"Hey, I just wanna know what's goin' on," said Logan.

"It depends on what you're going to tell us," said Sookie. "But I definitely will be mad if you don't tell the truth."

"Well..." began Marie. "I was the one who suggested jail breaking Pam."

"Good one, kid," said Logan with much approval. "I can't believe Storm actually let Mystique do it, though."

"I'm not sure Miss Monroe actually knew about it," said Marie, fidgeting a little. "But everyone else seemed happy to help, especially Kitty and Jubilee and Bobby. Magneto looked happy too, not that I care about his feelings."

"He probably thinks this gives us a good excuse to negotiate with New York instead of Louisiana," said Logan, startling Marie with the revelation. This was the first time _she_'d heard anything about an alliance with New York. She didn't even know much about Sybille Royale, apart from the fact that she didn't like Sophie-Ann and was rich as hell. Oh, and she sponsored children's charity hospitals, did lots of television interviews and was often on the best-dressed lists in _Vogue_.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Well, think about it," said Logan. "Technically, we _are_ in an alliance with the Queen of Louisiana at present. Your little plan will get her into deep shit with the vampire authorities, which means that an alliance with her will no longer be beneficial, so Magneto can pressure us into forming an alliance with New York, which, if I hadn't made a promise to Northman, I would have gone ahead with because Sybille Royale sounds professional and owns half of Wall Street. Now we actually have a valid reason. And I'm not sure how I came up with all of that because it actually makes sense."

"Logan, you should stop underestimating yourself," Sookie chided. "Just because you don't like thinking doesn't mean you can't when you have to."

"Yeah, well, but this is politics. You know I hate politics," said Logan. "But, kid," he continued, turning back to Marie. "You still haven't told us everything. I can feel it."

"You didn't let me finish," Marie pointed out. She told them about taking Eric's blood because he felt that it would be better if he could keep track of what was going on at their end. Logan accepted this. Sookie did not.

"You do know that he's going to be able to locate you and feel your emotions, right?" the telepath demanded.

"Yes, I know," said Marie. "I told him that it was fine by me if he didn't mind feeling my PMS mood swings." Logan snorted at that. "He explained everything before I took his blood," she continued. "Including the increased libido and attraction to him." She was blushing as she said it, but she didn't like lying to Logan and Sookie. They were family. Family didn't keep secrets, although she wasn't sure if she ought to tell Sookie that Eric had kissed her, and that she hadn't exactly protested. With her strict southern upbringing, kissing one guy whilst dating another was probably a no-no. Heck, it was a no-no in every culture. Logan probably wouldn't care as long as she was happy with it, but that was the way he was, and she loved him for it.

"Wait, what?" said Sookie. "I didn't know you were attracted to Eric." She looked nauseated by the notion.

"Do I need to go outside?" asked Logan. "Because I can really skip this part. Honest. I mean, kid, I'll support you if you're happy about it and you ain't hurtin' anybody —though you might want to tell LeBeau because you _are_ dating him— but other than that, I don't need to know details. Just use protection, all right?"

"Logan!" Marie didn't know what colour she was now. She'd always been a bit on the pale side, so her blushing was really obvious. What she _had _been about to say? Oh, wait. She was telling them about the properties of vampire blood. Obviously, Sookie didn't know all the details.

"Just a friendly reminder, kid," said the Wolverine, looking about just as uncomfortable as she was.

"There's nothing going on between him and me!" Marie stated firmly. Well, apart from that one kiss, which was _not_ going to be repeated anytime soon, she promised herself. And yes, she was going to come clean to Remy the next time she saw him face to face. No matter how he'd flinched when she'd kissed him, he was still a good man and he deserved to know the truth. And if he dumped her, then it would serve her right. God, she was a total mess. "It's just that taking his blood will make me attracted to him, whether I want to be or not." She caught sight of Sookie's face. Her cousin seemed to be bloodless beneath her tan.

"Oh my God," the telepath whispered. And then she burst into tears.

* * *

She didn't know what to think. Her entire romance with Bill had been a drug induced lie. From the start, she hadn't had a choice. She wondered if she would have agreed to becoming his girlfriend if he hadn't fed her his blood that night when she had been attacked by the Rattrays. But he'd been saving her life, hadn't he? Then again, he did have a file on her and he'd been compiling information since before he'd even met her. This was all linked; the blood, the file, the werewolves. She had the distinct feeling that she'd been played. Everything had just been a bit too perfect. After all, she was just a barmaid from Bon Temps, albeit a telepathic one.

Marie rubbed her arms in a gesture of comfort. "Sookie, what's wrong?" she asked. "Did I do something?" The poor girl really didn't know what she had signed up for, did she? Or else she wouldn't be so calm about taking Eric's blood. Then again, Eric seemed to have made the side effects pretty clear, so perhaps Marie's decision had been more informed than all of hers where Bill was concerned. Now she definitely had to find Bill. He had a lot, and she meant a _lot_, of explaining to do.

Now, if only she could stop crying over him, then that would be spiffy. Crying too much often gave her splitting headaches and she needed to rest well tonight if she wanted to be prepared to get more information from Josephine's tomorrow night.

* * *

Russell Edgington, King of Mississippi, dwelled in a residence on the outskirts of Jackson. It was a stately mansion, built during the time of the Civil War, with pseudo Greco-Roman fluted columns out front and a domed roof that made it look a bit like St. Peter's Basilica. The extensive grounds were guarded by numerous...weres. Eric would know their scent anywhere. There were slight individual differences, but they all had the scent of the same vampire on them. Was it possible? The King of Mississippi was his age-old enemy? It definitely wasn't improbable. Russell Edgington was rumoured to be close to three thousand years old, an entire millennium older than Godric. He was probably the oldest vampire in North America, and possible both Americas, unless there was some ancient Olmec vampire he hadn't heard about.

He landed just outside of the property's boundaries. It would do him no good to appear to be unfriendly to Edgington, no matter what the King of Mississippi might have done to him in the past. If he was really the vampire that Eric had been seeking for the past thousand years, then he would have to proceed very carefully indeed.

* * *

The metal floor was cold and hard beneath her, not that Pam was going to complain about her lodgings for the time being. She was just grateful to be alive. Cold fluorescent lights glared down at her. She sat up. The room she had been given for her daytime rest was apparently a storage room, which housed the mutants' uniforms as well as other rather interesting equipment, including a red visor for which the purpose was unknown. She opened the door. The corridor was empty, which was just as well, because she was sure that if she bumped into a miniature human, she would probably drain it.

She remembered her way out of this maze of tunnels from last night, when Mystique had showed her where she would rest. It was too bad that the metamorph's taste was strictly limited to males. She'd been more interested in Sookie's brother than in Pam. She stepped into the elevator and in moments, she was in the main part of the mansion. The walls were panelled with red-stained wood and the wide hallway was lit up by lamps that protruded from the wall. She heard voices coming from the 'common room' and deduced that most of the young mutants were there. They might have given her a light proof resting place, but they'd neglected the fact that vampires often woke up hungry.

Mystique had showed her the kitchen the night before. She hoped there weren't any mini-humans there having midnight snacks. It turned out that there was a human in there, and he didn't seem the least bit afraid of her. "You are the vampire?" he asked when he saw her. He had a Russian accent, but apart from that his English was good.

"Very well spotted," said Pam. Hmm...he smelled interesting, although there seemed to be far too much metal in his blood. Was that his mutation? At any rate, she doubted that biting one of the mutants would actually endear her to her hosts. As much as she didn't like breathers, she had to say that mutants came in very handy sometimes. So she opened the fridge. There were a dozen bottles of True Blood. She took two out and stuck them in the microwave.

"Bobby told me about you," said the Russian boy. He was about the same age as Marie, perhaps slightly older. It was becoming difficult for her to identify human ages. "I've never seen a vampire before."

"I figured, because if you had, you'd know to shut up by now," snapped Pam. She was not a people person, and she was definitely not in the mood to make small talk. Come to think of it, she never made small talk. Dear Abby said that it was a useful skill for humans to know, but since she was a vampire, she thought it didn't apply to her.

"I'm sorry," said the Russian boy. "I did not mean to offend." Well, at least he was polite, and definitely not afraid of her, for some reason. The microwave beeped. She took out both bottles, shook them, and then opened one.

"What's your power?" she asked. Well, since he'd asked her questions, it was her time to ask a few. It was always interesting to see what those mutants could do.

"This," he said. Before her eyes, he turned into metal. No wonder he wasn't afraid of her.

"Impressive," she said, taking a sip of her blood. It tasted like crap, but it was sustenance, and she needed her strength. "Do you know where the metamorph is?"

"Mystique?" said the Russian metal man. "She is in her computer laboratory."

Well, that was where Pam was going next. She finished her two bottles of True Blood. Before she left the kitchen, she turned. The Russian was still staring at her. "What's your name, Tinman?" she asked.

"Tinman," replied the boy with a smile. "But sometimes I answer to Piotr."

* * *

Mystique was more than happy to fly her to New York City. Apparently, the mutants were already arranging back up plans. If they couldn't have an alliance with all vampires through Louisiana, then they were going to try New York. Eric was not going to be pleased, but if Pam had to speak objectively, then she would have said that New York was a much better choice as an ally. Not only was Sybille rich, but she had connections to just about every important vampire in the world. European royalty; they were all interrelated, vampire or otherwise.

Sybille had been more than happy to accept a visit from her when Pam called. "Use the landing pad on my building," she advised Pam. It was an honour. Usually, only the Queen's private helicopters could land there. Tiny moving pinpricks of cars headlights moved below like a trail of glowing ants. Everywhere, there were colourful flashing billboards. At ground level, it was as bright as day.

Elspeth was there to greet her. She'd come to work for the Queen after Pam had left, so the two vampires weren't acquainted with one another. She seemed to be the quiet respectable sort, just what a classy lady-in-waiting ought to be. Sybille had always had good taste. "Her Majesty invites you to wait within for a couple of moments, Ms. Ravenscroft," she said. "Milady is completing a shoot for _Vogue_ at the moment, but she will be with you shortly." Vogue, huh? Well, Sybille had always been one who took full advantage of the media spotlight. It didn't hurt that she was beautiful and had great business sense. Her special 'gift' was the ability to predict stock market trends.

Mystique and disembarked from the jet as well. She'd changed into a gorgeous blonde in a fitted cream pantsuit. "I thought you were going to wait in the jet," Pam whispered.

"I've heard so much about the Queen of New York that it would be a shame not to meet her myself," the metamorph replied. There was no hint of fear in her voice. These mutants were all about business, and they considered themselves to be equal in status to vampires. Although, come to think of it, some of them _were_ more than capable of taking out vampires all on their own. That fire thrower, for example, would make an excellent warrior.

If Elspeth heard their exchange, she pretended that she didn't. They were led to what had become known amongst Sybille's subjects as the Atlantean Room. In the centre was a large circular heated pool. The walls were composed of one giant aquarium, housing thousands of tropical saltwater fish as well as various breeds of colourful coral. The ceiling was of limestone, with ancient forgotten runes carved on them. Some said that these were runes from the lost city of Atlantis.

Steam swirled above the surface of the water. The floor around the pool was made of tiny mosaic tiles of blue, gold and green. The room's light source came from the aquarium and the lights at the bottom of the tiled pool, which cast an eerie blue glow on the ceiling. The moving water meant that the light patterns were always in motion too, making it seem as if the entire room was underwater. Long blue chaises, upholstered with the finest satin, had been placed around the edge of the pool. Only the Queen's most intimate acquaintances got to see this room. This was one of her sanctuaries.

"Impressive," said Mystique, looking around. "And an interesting concept, Atlantis."

"It's part of our mythos," said Pam. "It is said that the first vampire originated in Atlantis, although I don't know the full history." Very few vampires did know it anymore. Eric probably knew quite a bit. Pam had never really paid much attention to it. These were just stories. Atlantis didn't really exist, or else they'd have found it by now. She made herself comfortable on one of the chaises. Presently, Elspeth returned to announce the arrival of the Queen. Pam rose and sank into a deep curtsey, as was expected. Mystique also rose from her seat, but she only stood there.

"Pamela, my dear," said Sybille, indicating that the younger vampire should rise. The Queen was clad in a long silk robe with an orange impressionist print on a cream background, cut kimono-style. She'd thrown it on top of an ensemble of a black bikini halter neck swimsuit that Pam had seen in one of the resort collections. The only other thing she was wearing was a pair of crystal studded satin platform stilettos. Obviously, she'd come straight from the photo shoot. "I heard about what happened last night. I was quite distraught. You are healed?"

"Yes, thank you, Your Majesty," said Pam as she straightened herself. She glanced at Mystique. Should she introduce the metamorph?

"Ms. Royale," said Mystique. "We've spoken on the phone before."

"Yes, I recognize your voice, Mystique," said Sybille. "I must say I've been quite anxious to meet one of you for some time, although my colleague Mr. Northman objects to my interest in your affairs." Hah! Colleague? More like occasional fuck buddy. Granted, it had been a couple of years since Eric and Sybille had fucked one another, but the exact same amount of time had elapsed since they'd last seen each other. They just couldn't keep their hands off one another. They just happened to have conflicting interests.

The Queen invited them to sit and offered them drinks. An attendant came in carrying a tray of three champagne flutes, only one of which was filled with champagne. "Organic blood," said Sybille, lifting her glass off the tray. She was half lounging on one of the chaises, with her long pale legs stretched out. "The donors are on an organic raw foods diet and they receive oxygen therapy. I trust that your preferred vintage is still AB negative, Pamela?"

"It is, milady," said Pam. She took an appreciative sip of her blood. It was clear and sweet, devoid of the toxins that most modern humans had in their bloodstream. "Milady, I didn't come purely on a social call."

"I knew you didn't," said Sybille. "This is about your maker, I presume?"

Pam told her about everything that had transpired, including the sale of V and the werewolves and the strange files that they'd found on Bill Compton's computer. Eric might not have approved, but they were in deep shit, and Sybille was one of the few people who could really help them. Besides, she could be trusted, when it all came down to it. She was family. "Do you know anything about the werewolves?" she asked. "For some strange reason, Eric seems to be obsessed about them and this brand they have."

"It's not my story to tell," said Sybille. "But yes, I do know, and I'm keeping my eye fixed on Mississippi."

* * *

Josephine's was more crowded tonight. Apparently, something big was about to happen. The 'Master', whoever he was, was going to come in and distribute V straight from the source, or so Sookie had said. Logan trusted the telepath on that one. Their group of five, consisting of himself, Sookie, Marie, Alcide and Van Helsing found a little table in the corner and sat down. They were rather tense about tonight. This was their only chance at finding out who was behind the werewolf attacks, and why they'd been after Sookie. For Van Helsing, it was an end to a hunt that had taken him from Italy to Siberia to Mississippi.

The entire club was filled to the brim with werewolves. Alcide looked distinctly uncomfortable; his former fiancée was here too, and she was rubbing herself all over her new man—err, wolf. Logan waved a waitress over and ordered a round of vodka shots. He needed something to do, and the miserable werewolf could probably use a strong drink. Sookie added a ginger ale to the order and Marie decided on lemonade. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The werewolves were getting drunk and cackling and making a heck of a lot of noise. They sounded more like hyenas than wolves, to be honest.

And then, a collective howl. Logan was so surprised that he spat his mouthful of vodka all over Van Helsing. "What the..." he began, but he was quickly hushed. The spotlights focused on a rather non-descript looking man with receding brown hair. He was rather small, and he wore sunglasses even though the club was dark and it was night. However, upon closer inspection, Logan realized that he was actually a vampire, and somehow, he seemed to have all the werewolves enthralled. A tray of empty shot glasses was brought up to him, and a hushed and expectant silent settled over the werewolves. A few of them whined and snuffled, but for the most part, they were just watching the vampire in awe. A ceremonial dagger was brought out and presented to the vampire, who took it and slit his wrist with it, allowing his blood to dribble into the glasses. "Who is that?" Van Helsing whispered to Alcide.

"That's Russell Edgington," the werewolf whispered back. "He's just a rich vamp."

One by one, the werewolves each took a glass reverently, almost like Christians taking communion at church. There was another collective howl as they raised their glasses to salute the one who had provided them with their drug of choice, and then they drank.

They changed into wolves before his very eyes. Morbid fascination made Logan fix his gaze on the changing werewolves. So this Russell Edgington was behind Bill's kidnapping and that attempt to kidnap Sookie. But why? They probably wanted Sookie for her telepathic powers, but Bill was pretty regular, as far as vampires went. He wouldn't even be particularly interesting as a human, apart from some disturbing stalker qualities.

"Time to go," Alcide said through gritted teeth. He was tense; his tendons were bulging, and were his eyes turning yellow?

"Definitely time to go," said Van Helsing. Well, he was the monster hunter. He probably knew best. Besides, there was nothing more they could find out, unless someone had Edgington's address and phone number. Somehow, Logan doubted that they would be able to find this vampire in the local phone book.


	25. High Treason

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 25: High Treason**

Last night had been a bit of a disaster, although Eric had managed to salvage something out of it. Things were definitely not going to plan; the last thing he'd expected was to find out that Bill Compton was a guest in Russell Edgington's house. That moment was almost cringe-worthy, come to think of it, although Eric Northman never cringed. He'd been trying to tell Russell Edgington and his Greek consort that Bill Compton had been working with the Fellowship of the Sun and selling V because he loathed his vampire state, and then Bill himself had walked in. It had turned out that Compton had known all along who was behind the sale of V. Perhaps it had been a good thing, then, that he'd been dragged off by Russell Edgington's wolves.

The most important thing was that he was now in the enemy's lair, and was working his way towards gaining the enemy's trust. He'd just about begged Russell Edgington to help him rescue Pam, feigning ignorance when Russell had told him about Sophie Ann's raid on Fangtasia after he'd left. Edgington was getting rather interested in the mutants too, which was not such a good thing, but he could hardly poach them, at least not whilst they were based primarily in Sibylla's territory. He'd rather let Sibylla have those mutants than Edgington.

The mansion was half empty tonight. Edgington had said that he had business to attend to. Eric hadn't asked about it. It would not do to seem _too_ interested in the king's affairs yet. He had to bide his time, get close to him, and then he could avenge what was done to his family a thousand years before. After that, who knew? It was a crime punishable by final death to kill a king, but it was for this very purpose that he had lived for so long, relentlessly searching for the one responsible for the murders. Even if he did meet the final death for killing Edgington, he would have no regret. Of course, he would prefer it if he could live on.

* * *

Sookie was more than impatient to find out more about this Russell Edgington. However, a search on the internet turned up very little, and he wasn't listed in the phone book. The telepath ran a hand through her tousled hair. How were they supposed to find a vampire who didn't want to be found? The only thing they knew about him was that he owned a club, hired a lot of werewolves and gave them his blood.

"It's too bad I didn't catch his scent," said Logan. "I could have followed him."

"Jackson's a big city," said Alcide. "It would be pretty difficult to find someone based on scent." He'd recovered somewhat from the disastrous evening at Josephine's, even though he still looked a bit haggard and haunted. Apparently, the collective energy of all those werewolves shifting almost made him shift too.

"Yeah, well, at least it would have been something," said Logan darkly.

"Well, there is someone we can call who will definitely know something," said Van Helsing.

"Who?" demanded Sookie. Why hadn't he mentioned it earlier?

"Sybille Royale, Queen of New York," said Van Helsing. "The Sicilian vampires recommended her as an advisor." New York again? She really did seem to be all over everything. What made this queen in particular so powerful and influential? It couldn't just be her money.

"You work with vampires?" asked Logan.

"Occasionally we help one another," said Van Helsing. "When there is a mutual advantage, for instance. American vampires generally don't appreciate the interference of European vampires, and whilst most European vampires aren't interested in events in the New World, they do occasionally have a personal stake in the affairs of American vampires. After all, some of their siblings or progeny have crossed the Atlantic. They're a nepotistic bunch, those European vamps."

"So...they think that they're helping a member of their clique by telling you about these werewolves in Mississippi?" said Alcide.

"That's what I suspect," said Van Helsing. "But that's none of my business, really. I'm only interested in stopping this Russell Edgington and whatever he's doing with those werewolves of his."

"Well, call her now," said Logan. "The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can get Compton and the sooner we can all go home."

The call to New York was brief and precise. It took all of three minutes. Russell Edgington was the King of Mississippi. He was dangerous. And he lived on the outskirts of Jackson. Van Helsing thanked her, not as a queen, but as an equal, and then ended the call. Sookie was beginning to get really suspicious of this man, not because she believed he would hurt them, but because, despite appearances, he just didn't seem natural. In fact, sometimes, she got a feeling that he was more supernatural than most supes. For one, she just couldn't detect his mental signature. There wasn't even a void. And then there was the fact that he knew so much about supes.

"Well?" said Logan. "So what do we do?"

"I'll scope out the place tomorrow morning. It's best to know the battlefield before you do anything," said Van Helsing

"So you're convinced that there _will_ be a fight," said Alcide, who didn't look as if he liked that notion.

"There's always going to be violence, if my experience has told me anything," said Van Helsing. "Maybe I just have bad luck." He glanced at his watch. His very expensive-looking vintage Rolex. "It's getting late," he said, and then he turned his full attention to Logan. "There's someone I need to meet, and I think you should come with me."

"Why?" asked the Wolverine suspiciously.

"You'll know when you meet him," said Van Helsing. "That's what he said, at any rate. He is an old friend of yours, I believe."

* * *

Logan narrowed his eyes at his doppelganger. Did he trust the man? There was something odd about him, but they already knew that. If there was danger, then he didn't sense it, but even his instincts had been wrong sometimes. "Who is he?" he asked.

"An old friend who knows you better than you know you," said Van Helsing. The hell? The Wolverine glanced at the others. They knew that he had amnesia, and they knew that he wanted to find out about himself, but did he really want to leave the others behind so he could meet with whoever this was?

"Logan, if he knows about you, then you should go and see him," said Marie. "We'll be fine on our own for a couple of hours."

"You sure?" said Logan. He wasn't so sure.

"I'll keep an eye on things until you get back," said Alcide. "You go on."

Seeing as he had little reason not to go —and every reason to go— Logan decided to chance it. After all, what _could_ happen in a couple of hours?

As it turned out, a lot.

* * *

Russell Edgington planned to take over Louisiana through marrying Sophie Ann. He was going to use the information about V sales as leverage against the incompetent queen. Eric wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic towards Sophie Ann at the moment. That V that the Magister had found in Fangtasia had definitely _not_ been part of his stock. Someone had framed him, and he knew just who. Betrayal did _not_ inspire loyalty at all.

He followed the royal consort, Talbot, as the younger vampire led him on a tour through the mansion. Russell Edgington's residence wasn't as magnificent as Sophie-Ann's, but his collections of artefacts defied belief. His house was better stocked than the museums in New York. Medieval tapestries and stained glass windows were displayed everywhere. The glass panels were stained with a blue that could not be replicated anymore, for its secret was lost. Well, not entirely lost. There were a few vampires who probably knew how to make it. There was a suit of armour from China's Warring Period, a robe worn by the druids of Ancient Britain before the Romans invaded, and...

Everything else faded. The crown. He only saw the crown. The woven golden pattern, the sigils, the runes, the insignia; it was as familiar to him as the lines on his own palm. It sat on a display stand amongst thirty other crowns, but the other ones, although they were more opulent and bejewelled, did not matter to him. Not one bit.

He opened the door of the display cabinet, unaware that Edgington's consort had stopped talking and was watching him. This was the crown his father had worn, and _his_ father before him. It had been supposed to come to Eric after Ulfric died, but instead, it had been snatched from the king's head by the jaws of a wolf. The hatred, which had awoken as soon as he'd seen the mark and found out about the vampire who controlled them, flared, and it took him all his willpower to not show it on his face. His father had always called him rash. Years of being a vampire had tempered him somewhat, but the old Eric was still there, quick to anger, and slow to forgive.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?" asked Talbot.

"Indeed," whispered Eric as he took the crown in his hands. He knew every bit of it, down to the very last rune. This should have been his, and his son's after him, and so on, until the end of his line. He really had to struggle to control himself when he thought about his son, his firstborn, the cheerful ten year old child with wheaten hair and blue eyes whose throat had been ripped out by the fangs of a wolf.

He remembered cradling his child's cooling body in his arms, his hands covered in blood, staring into those glassy dead eyes, and vowing that he would have revenge and justice, even if it meant giving up his own life. Feelings that he'd thought had died long ago came back to life again. He swallowed, remembering what his maker had always told him. He needed to be calm. He thought about how satisfied he would be _after_ avenging his family. He thought about the advantage that he had, with a nephilim on his side. He thought about _how_ he would avenge his family.

Yes, that was a huge question. How was he going to harm a vampire, who was not only three times his age, but also had an army of V-addicted werewolves and only Thor knew how much money, not to mention a huge following of vampires.

Mississippi was not the richest kingdom, but Russell Edgington was a powerful king. Not only was he the oldest vampire in North America, rumour had it that he'd once been a high priest, or even a druid, with intimate knowledge of the old magics. That made Edgington extremely dangerous indeed.

* * *

Drained by tonight's activities and revelations, Marie headed off to bed after Logan left with Van Helsing. She felt safe in the apartment. Really, what could happen? No one except the other mutants, as well as Eric and Pam, knew that they were in Jackson, and the latter had no reason to reveal their location to anyone. Vampires might not be entirely trustworthy —they had a very warped idea of morality, if they had any idea of morality at all— but they were very pragmatic most of the time.

The pillows were plump and the cotton sheets were crisp and cool, which felt great against her skin. She felt a little bit guilty about taking up the only other bedroom in the apartment —Sookie had one and she had one— but Alcide had insisted. It wasn't right for a lady to be sleeping on a couch or on a blow up mattress, he'd said. She really had to send him a nice thank you card and gift when she went back to Bon Temps.

Last night, she'd been plagued by vivid dreams; dreams that made her blush violently to remember them. Eric had warned her about them, but she hadn't imagined that they would be so...intense, not to mention graphic.

She shivered as she remembered Dream-Eric's hands on places where they definitely should _not_ be. Her reaction had been...equally embarrassing, now that she thought about it. But she'd liked it at the time, and he'd been so sweet in her dreams, although, well, she _had_ seen Fangtasia's security tapes and she knew what sort of man —err, vampire— her boss was. He'd been through just about every dancer in the club, not to mention the best looking patrons, and then some. She hadn't been able to look one of the dancers, Yvetta, in the eye for two weeks after she'd glimpsed footage of her in Eric's office, christening the desk. She wouldn't touch that desk without disinfecting it first. Vampires might not carry too many germs, but human strippers were an entirely different matter. Besides, watching one's boss have sex was...disturbing. She was only a minor, after all.

Her eyes grew heavy and her thoughts wandered, back to that spine-tingling kiss that had set her on fire. No. She really shouldn't be thinking about her boss. There were more important matters at hand, like _how_ to tell Remy that she'd cheated on him. Was there a nice way to do it? She needed relationship advice, and it seemed that no one could give it to her. With these thoughts on her mind, she drifted off into sleep.

* * *

He was there, lying next to her. She felt his cool skin against hers, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm in the most creative ways, making her shiver. He was touching her, he was kissing her, and he definitely wasn't having a seizure or falling into a coma. "You know this isn't right," she said as they broke off the kiss. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted to break it off, for it was the sweetest and most tender kiss, sending liquid fire down to the soles of her feet and the tips of her fingers. And the feeling, the sensations, the intimacy. It was good to be able to touch someone and not kill them.

"Isn't it?" said Eric with a devilish grin. His hand did not stop moving. He was now drawing something on her bare back lazily. "It feels right."

"That doesn't make it right," she said. "I have a boyfriend, and he's a good guy."

"You're trying to convince yourself, little Marie," he said in that deliciously seductive and husky voice of his, whilst seriously distracting her with what magic his hands were working on her body, making her feel sensations in parts of herself that she hadn't even known she had until now. His unblinking blue eyes bored into hers. She could stare at them forever. "You and I both know he's not right for you. You just won't admit it."

"I'm dispensable to you," she said. "Just one of billions of others."

"You overestimate me," said Eric with a laugh, not the least bit put off. Well, this was a dream. Nothing had to make sense. "I think they only number in the thousands."

"Still, I'm not going to become a statistic," said Marie, all the while succumbing to his touch. She pressed herself closer to him. Actual skin contact. No sheer silk, no nothing. Just her skin and his skin, and his fangs. She brushed her fingers against the pointed tips. "You ever go to the dentist?" she asked. Now, why would she ask that? Ah, well. This was her dream. She could ask whatever the hell she liked. Maybe she could ask about the clothes he wore during the various historical eras as well. She imagined that he would look good in chainmail. She did like a man in chainmail.

"You say the most confounding things, my little mutant," he said as he pulled her closer to him. She heard voices outside. It was easy to ignore them at first, but they grew louder. Someone was shouting. She heard Sookie shouting Bill's name, and then Bill's voice. What were _Bill_ and _Sookie_ doing here? This was her dream, not Sookie's, and as far as she knew, Sookie couldn't project thoughts yet. It might not be real, but she was _not_ ready to have a foursome, not even a dream-foursome. Wait, they sounded rather desperate, and frightened...

Marie opened her eyes. She had not been dreaming about Sookie and Bill's voices. That sweet Eric, unfortunately, had been a figment of her imagination. Ignoring the fact that she was rather hot and bothered, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only three in the morning; she'd been asleep for less than two hours. The girl padded to the door of the room, pausing only to put on her satin gloves. It had become a habit. She opened the door just a little, enough to see Sookie clinging to Bill for all she was worth one moment, and then slapping him the next.

"You have a _lot _of explaining to do, Bill Compton," said the telepath.

"And I will explain if I ever get the chance," said the vampire, "but now is not the time. You have to leave, now, or it will be too late."

"Not until you tell me why," said Sookie stubbornly.

"There is no time!" said Bill. He was pleading with her. "Please, Sookie, trust me."

"You haven't exactly given me a very good reason to, Bill," said Sookie. "Why were you keeping a file on—" She didn't get to finish the sentence. Someone kicked down the door, splintering the doorframe.

"Come on in!" the intruder shouted before anyone had the chance to react. Immediately, two vampires and three leather clad thugs sprang into action. The two vampires grabbed Bill and pinned him against the wall. He struggled, but to no avail. They were too strong for him. Alcide was grappling with one of the thugs —probably a werewolf hyped up on V— and losing. The other two were going for Sookie.

Marie pulled off her glove. She spent her entire existence being afraid of killing someone by accident, and she didn't like killing at all, but when it came down to protecting her family, she would do anything. She leapt for one of the werewolves, glad that Logan had pushed her and trained her until she passed Danger Room Training. The vampire blood she had ingested made her strong. The momentum of her leap knocked the biker over, and before he could recover and throw her off, which would be pretty easy, considering his size, she placed her bare hand on his throat and squeezed.

Energy flowed through her. She felt heat surrounding her body, and she wanted to kill, to taste salty blood, to howl at the moon. She wanted to feel the wind through her fur as she raced across the tundra, chasing caribou.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her shirt and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing more than a paper bag, pulling her off the werewolf, who was now having a seizure. Before she knew it, a manacle-like hand had wrapped itself around her other wrist, which still had its glove, and her arm was being twisted behind her back. She gave a cry of pain as she felt her tendons and ligaments being strained to their limit.

"Well, well, well," said an unfamiliar voice. She risked glancing back at her captor. He gave her a toothy smile in return. "Aren't you an exotic little something? I only came for Miss Stackhouse and her wayward beau, but you're too interesting to leave behind." Really, she should be flattered. She'd caught the attention of none other than the King of Mississippi himself.

"You're the king, aren't you?" she said, even though she knew who he was. She didn't know why she said that. Maybe it was the Logan part of her talking. That bit of her always had to have the last word. "I can see why the French guillotined their royalty."

* * *

**A/N: **Russell Edgington, in my story, will be a bit different from the Russell Edgington in the books and on the show. Since I'm throwing in this very powerful Queen of New York, it's only right that there are other powerful monarchs to balance her out. Russell Edgington, in my opinion, has the potential to rival Sybille Royale, both in terms of wealth and influence in the American vampire community. Internationally...well, I'm getting ahead of myself.


	26. Royal Company

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 26: Royal Company**

She had not seen such tumultuous times since the Fall of Jerusalem in 1187, when she'd lost her kingdom. Sybille twirled the delicate stem of her glass between her fingers, letting the few drops of blood at the bottom roll with the movement. She'd known that Russell Edgington was planning something, of course, although she wasn't entirely sure what he had in mind. There were things that even she didn't know about. Van Helsing's call had startled her a little, to be honest. Russell Edgington was the one in charge of those marked weres? Now that she thought about it, it really wasn't so surprising, but she certainly hadn't expected it.

But, enough about that. She had problems closer to home to worry about. The proposal of the Vampire Rights Act had caused tensions to appear, even in New York, where the humans were mostly accepting of vampires and other minority groups. It was all fine when there was _no_ legislation, but now that they were obligated to be accepting and not discriminate, people started polarizing. A few humans were all for the act, but most others were suspicious. As one of the most prominent vampires in New York, she was part of the AVL's public relations team —that gave her a lot of power, of course, but it also meant a hell of a lot more work and troubles. If she hadn't been a vampire, she'd have been nursing a huge headache right now and drowning herself in coffee.

With a sigh, she flipped open her cell phone and told her chauffeur to be ready for her in thirty minutes. She had yet another press conference to attend. Nan Flanagan was going to hate her for this, but the other vampire couldn't possibly be everywhere at once, and it really wasn't Sybille's fault that she was more photogenic.

* * *

Perhaps it was her anger at having been outsmarted by some rich old vamp who happened to call himself a king. Perhaps it was her panic at seeing her cousin being hurt by said old vamp. Whatever the reason, Sookie suddenly felt a strange energy building up inside her. She heard the roar of the wind, felt the warmth of the sun, even though it was night, and smelled the musky scent of the earth right after the first rains. Light shot out of her fingers, throwing the werewolf that had been attacking her backwards and into a wall.

She stared at her hand, looked at the werewolf, and returned her attention to her fingers. What had just happened? There was no reasonable explanation for it. Sure, she'd read that adrenaline could make people do amazing things, such as lift cars and the like, but no one ever mentioned shooting electricity. Instead of being angry, Russell Edgington just laughed. "This is better than I'd thought!" That made Sookie wonder what he'd originally thought he'd get when he raided Alcide's apartment, and then decided that she really didn't care enough at the moment. Bill, the other vampires and the werewolves, barring the one who was having a seizure and frothing at the mouth, were staring at her. The lull in the action lasted only for a moment. One of the vampires holding Bill against the wall suddenly flung himself at her, knocking the telepath to the ground. He picked her up like she was a sack of meat —or blood, in this case— and held her under his arm. She screamed, she beat at him, but it was completely useless. She was small, he was big, she was human, he was vampire.

"Well, gentlemen," said Russell Edgington, who seemed more than satisfied with the fruits of his little hunt. "We have dallied long enough."

* * *

Van Helsing drove them to a neat little house in the suburbs. Every other house in the neighbourhood looked the same, with trimmed yellowing hedges, white picket fences, and cute little gates that could only serve as obstacles to Chihuahuas. "What are we doin' here?" Logan demanded as the man turned off the engine of his hummer.

"Your friend is rather low key, I believe," said Van Helsing. Damn him for being so cryptic. The door opened just as the two men got out of the car. In the doorway was a very unthreatening young man, or he seemed young until Logan looked at the man's eyes. They were wise, as if he had seen everything there was to see in the world.

"Gabriel Van Helsing," said the man. Gabriel? That was Van Helsing's first name? Something struck him then. He'd heard that name from someone else before, but he couldn't remember who. For some reason, it was meaningful, although Logan didn't know why. "You're late."

"I got caught up with business, unfortunately, Xavier," said Van Helsing.

"I know," said the man called Xavier. He spoke with a very precise British accent. "And Logan. I'm glad to see that you haven't changed a bit."

"You know me?" said Logan, cutting to the chase.

"Better than you know yourself, at present," said Xavier. "Please, do come in."

The house was tidy. There were shelves filled with books on every topic imaginable. There was an entire section dedicated to theology and the paranormal. There were also books in languages that looked like Greek or Russian to Logan, who had never been a linguist. He felt something about this place. Like...he was visiting a place where he'd been before, but couldn't remember. Had he actually been here before?

The mutant pulled a cigar out of his pocket. Smoking usually helped him to get his thoughts in order. He was about to light the cigar when Xavier stopped him. "I tolerate your smoking most of the time, Logan," he said, "but if you smoke in here, you will indeed be spending the rest of your life under the impression that you are a six year old girl."

The Wolverine dropped his cigar. Suddenly, everything fell into place. Of _course_ Xavier would know him better than he knew himself. This was a man who had been in every corner of his very messed up mind. "Chuck?" he whispered. "How is it possible?"

"You know what they say," said Van Helsing with a knowing smile. "The greatest telepaths never truly die."

* * *

Logan's head was reeling. Charles was back from wherever people went after they died. He'd come across the body of a young drug addict who'd overdosed. He'd been declared brain dead, and the medics had been about to take him off life support. The young man's spirit had already been too far away from his body, so Chuck had taken the opportunity to slip inside. The medics had been so surprised.

"It took a while for my new body to recover," said the telepath as he poured both Logan and Van Helsing cups of coffee. "It had been pumped full of drugs, but eventually, I did get better."

"Did they ever find this guy's family?"

"No," said Charles. "He wasn't on the system. I suppose it is for the best. They would be wondering when their drug addict relative got a personality change, and it would be a bother to have to fabricate a story. But come, I didn't ask you here to reminisce and catch up. There are things going on in the supernatural world, things that might just bring about a new world order."

"Like?" said Logan.

"We're not sure," said Van Helsing. "It's a rumour that's been passing through the other dimensions. I'm not sure if most supes in this dimension even know about it."

"There's another dimension?" said Logan. Crap. Why did they have to confuse him like this? He didn't like thinking about normal politics, and here he was, getting involved in cross-dimensional politics. He rubbed his temples.

"There are plenty of other dimensions," said Charles patiently. "Some people used to be able to pass through them quite easily, but they are mostly gone now."

"Wait," said Logan. "I thought you were a man of science. You don't believe in all this shit, do you?"

"Science can only explain so much," said Charles. "We live in a world where vampires open nightclubs and werewolves have construction companies. These are outside the realm of science. They can only be explained by magic. Besides, when you've died once, you realize that science leaves about ten million things unaccounted for, perhaps even more. That is, however, beside the point at present." He turned to Van Helsing. "It might interest you to know that there is a lot of energy focused here in Jackson, even though the nearest energy vortex is in Mexico."

"Huh?" said Logan. What the hell was an energy vortex? Was that like...a power plant? He was pretty sure they had a power plant somewhere near Jackson.

"No, it's not a power plant as we know it," said Charles. "I'm afraid I can't really explain it very well. This is all very new to me." He looked to Van Helsing. The man was sipping his coffee. He'd undone his tie, and in the dim light of Charles' living room, he seemed even more inhuman than he had before. "Gabriel, perhaps you could..."

Van Helsing set down his mug on the scratched wooden coffee table. "Energy vortexes are essentially places where magical energies are particularly concentrated," he said. "What we call ley lines, which are essentially power pylons for magic, converge at these points. Throughout history, people have been drawn to these lines and vortexes, often building great cities and monuments there on those spots. The nearest one is Teotihuacan, in Mexico."

"And this is relevant...how?" said Logan. Really, they should be talking to someone like Bill Compton or Northman, or hell, even Storm would be a better bet. He was just a guy who liked motorbikes, pizza, and beer, and wanted to live a peaceful life. He didn't know shit about 'lay lines' and magic. He wasn't Harry Potter.

"There is an unnatural concentration of magical energies in Jackson," said Charles, "which indicates that there is someone manipulating this energy and gathering it for his own use, and since there are other things going on in Jackson, we thought it might be relevant."

"Maybe it is, but even so, you're talking to the wrong guy here," said Logan.

"No," said Van Helsing. "You need to know this. It's part of who you are."

"No it's not," said Logan. "I'm a mutant, not some supernatural creature."

"Are you so sure?" said Charles. "Your vampire friends have told you that your blood tastes very different, haven't they?"

"One, it's probably my mutation, and two, it's rude to get inside my head without my permission," Logan snapped. He was getting really sick of this whole energy and magic business. "And three, they're not my friends."

"I was using the term loosely," said Charles.

"You'll feel better about all of this once you sleep on it," said Van Helsing. This guy had a lot of explaining to do. How did he know all this? How did he know Charles? The Wolverine was beginning to feel that it wasn't a coincidence that they met him in Lou Pines and that he was after the same thing as they were. Perhaps he was right. He should sleep on it.

* * *

No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't think of a way of getting them out. She'd just have to wait for Logan to come and rescue her, again. After Marie had been grabbed by the King of Mississippi, he'd quickly figured out that she couldn't harm vampires with her skin. She'd never regretted not being able to hurt someone so much. However, what he hadn't figured out was that whenever he touched her skin, not only could he sense her emotions, she could also feel his, and from what she had learned, he was a self-gratifying prick who was feeling very satisfied with himself right now, although about what, she couldn't tell. There were other telepaths in the world, and her killer skin wasn't exactly all that great.

She was wedged between Bill and one of those burly vampire thugs right now. Another vampire thug was on the other side of Bill, between him and Sookie. They'd been stuffed into a limo, which had been designed for six people in the back, which meant that it was a very snug fit. It was just as well that they'd left the werewolf in a coma back in Alcide's apartment.

The King of Mississippi sat opposite them, his eyes never even blinking as he surveyed his prisoners. She couldn't see where they were going, as the windows were opaque, although she suspected that they were heading for the royal residence on the outskirts of town. At least, she hoped so, or else Logan would have a very difficult time locating them. She didn't know what the vampire king intended to do with them, and she didn't really care to find out. She just hoped they could get out before it was too late.

She shifted a little in her seat, accidentally brushing Bill's hand with her own un-gloved one. At once, she sensed his desperation, his helplessness, and his almost obsessive love for Sookie. There was also a lot of guilt. He was hiding something from them. He must have felt her emotions, because he suddenly glanced at her. She pretended that she didn't notice anything. It was not safe to let anyone know that she could feel vampire emotions. She doubted that Russell Edgington would appreciate her sensing what he was feeling, for example.

* * *

As soon as Logan saw the door, he knew something was wrong. The claws popped out immediately. He sniffed. Someone else had been here, and he recognized the scent of strange vampires as well as those V-wolves. Behind him, Van Helsing swore. It seemed that _he_ hadn't expected this either.

The apartment was an absolute mess. Vases had been broken, the flat screen television had a hole in it, and there was the dead body of a biker lying on the floor with foam coming out of his mouth. "Rogue!" he called. His heart rate sped up. "Sookie!" There was no answer. He heard a groan. Alcide. The werewolf was lying amongst a mess of splinters and glass shards. He'd probably hit his head quite hard against something.

"What happened?" Logan demanded of him.

"The vampire came," the werewolf said, after a few attempts. "He took them. I tried to stop them, but we were outnumbered."

"Which vampire?" demanded Van Helsing. "Edgington?"

"Yeah," said Alcide. He winced as he touched his head. "That other vamp, Compton, he tried to warn us, but it was too late." Logan helped Alcide to sit up. "We have to go after them."

"We will," said Van Helsing, "but not until the morning."

"What?" said Logan. "I ain't waitin' that long! Who knows what those vamps could do in an hour, or even a quarter of one?"

"They're vampires," said Van Helsing. "You think I don't want to rescue the telepath and your young charge? The point is, vampires are much easier to deal with during the day, and in case you haven't noticed, we're completely outnumbered. This is the best way."

"Look," said Logan. "If you're scared, fine. You don't have to come. But I'm goin' right now, night, day, or otherwise."

"He's right, you know," said Alcide. "I know you're worried, and I'm worried too, but it'll do them no good if we get ourselves ripped to shreds by vampires. It would be better to wait until day."

"I can't just sit here and twiddle my thumbs!" said Logan.

"You don't have to," said Van Helsing. "Call your associates. The more people we have, the better."

* * *

The limo stopped and Marie was dragged out of the limo by one of the burly vampires. She struggled against him, and the werewolf life force she'd just absorbed, combined with Eric's blood, made her a lot stronger than normal. Still, the vampire was huge and she just wasn't strong enough to free herself. Of course, the futility of it didn't stop her from trying. Logan had taught his students to never back down, and she wanted to make him proud.

Russell Edgington's royal residence looked like a cross between the White House, Captain Von Trapp's home in _The Sound of Music_, and a Roman temple. Marie suddenly fought the ridiculous urge to laugh at the image of the King of Mississippi singing 'Edelweiss' and playing the guitar, whilst dressed in a toga. Heck, maybe Edgington _had_ worn a toga in his human life. The double doors opened, and it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the bright light. Vampires didn't need a lot of light to see, but apparently, they enjoyed wasting electricity because it was the only way they could make up for their night time existence. Well, some vampires, like Pam, had no problem with it, but Russell Edgington obviously missed being able to walk in the sunlight, because his foyer was lit with a blazing golden chandelier that was designed to resemble the sun, if only a little.

Two marble staircases on either side of the foyer led to the open second level. The rails were painted white. Actually, everything in the house seemed to be beige or white, with the occasional gold accent. If she had been in the mood, Marie would have taken the time to admire the decor, because whoever decorated this place certainly deserved an award, but at the moment, she just wanted out.

When the doors first opened, it had seemed that the foyer was empty, save for a few security guards, but upon hearing the commotion, vampires began to emerge from every doorway. Marie's breath caught in her throat when she saw Eric. He couldn't help them now, even if he wanted to. He was in enemy territory, just as they were, and he wasn't stupid enough to try anything when he was alone in enemy territory and completely outnumbered. Besides, his primary concern wasn't his humans. Being a vampire, he probably had vamp business to worry about. Humans, or mutants, were dispensable.

"My darling," said one of the vampires as he approached the King of Mississippi —he would have been cute if he hadn't been the enemy. "What exactly have you brought back?" The vampire's dark hair had been slicked back with hair gel, and he was wearing a perfectly cut tuxedo. Long lashes framed his dark eyes.

"Talbot," said the king. He still hadn't released the telepath, and no matter how much Sookie struggled, she could not free herself, not that it was entirely unexpected. Vampires were very strong, after all. "Miss Stackhouse and her companion—" He gave a slight nod in Marie's direction. "Are our guests from now on."

"Oh, I will make sure they are provided for," said the vampire called Talbot as he sauntered very gracefully over to the telepath, looking her up and down as if he were examining an antique vase. "That dress must go. It clashes with the decor."

"I'll leave them in your very capable hands, my dear," said Edgington, stroking Talbot affectionately on the cheek. It seemed so gentle and intimate that it was hard to equate this vampire with the vampire who'd burst into Alcide's apartment and just snatched them. Then again, vampires were strange and were often walking contradictions. She'd learned that much.

In the periphery of her vision, she saw Bill being shoved to the marble floor by his vampire guard. He landed near the wooden railing of one of the grand staircases. Before anyone knew it, the vampire had broken off a piece of the railing and driven the sharp end of the piece of wood into the chest of his guard. As the tip of his makeshift stake emerged from the guard's back, the vampire began to disintegrate, turning into mucous-like blood before their very eyes. Marie had witnessed death before, but to see it up close like this, made her want to puke. This was _not_ like seeing someone get stabbed or shot in the head or...uh...crushed by a man with an adamantium skeleton. Somehow, she managed not to scream or lose her dinner as she felt some of the cool droplets hitting her face and her tightly closed eyes. That was quite some achievement.

As the unfortunate vampire guard broke down into a vamp-flavoured slushie, Bill lunged at Russell Edgington, only to find himself suspended in midair, unable to move. "I had expected that you would do something stupid, Mr. Compton," said Edgington. "But not _that_ stupid."

* * *

The rumours were right. Russell Edgington _was_ an old practitioner of the craft. Eric had thought that they had all died, that no vampire could manipulate those energies, but apparently, he'd been wrong. This was going to be a lot more complicated than he'd thought. A three thousand year old vampire was bad enough. A three thousand year old vampire who was also a necromancer or warlock or whatever the hell Edgington was labelled was even worse. Eric was a renowned warrior and strategist, but neither brute strength nor cunning was enough to deal with someone who could manipulate paranormal energies to suit their needs. It was just as well that Compton's stupidity had exposed the truth about Russell Edgington, or else the Viking might have made a very wrong move. He had to thank Compton for that.

Edgington flicked his hand, as if he were swatting flea. Compton, who'd still been suspended in midair, flew backwards and crashed into the stucco wall. Sookie screamed. Plaster cracked and bits of it fell off as Compton dropped to the floor in a heap, undoubtedly with very many broken bones. He would heal, of course, but Eric doubted that he would live long enough to heal. "Stupidity is so very often mistaken for courage," said Edgington, shaking his head. He tsked. "You really should have known better, William. Then again, you _do_ have Lorena for a maker. No doubt some of her traits were passed down to you." He turned to one of the other guards at the door. They had stood still the entire time, as if they were part of Talbot's decor, although the black of their uniforms probably clashed with what the effeminate Greek had had in mind. Eric didn't really think much of most southern Europeans. It was an age old prejudice, a leftover from his human life. "Take Mr. Compton to the slave quarters," Edgington said, "and summon his maker. I want Lorena to put him down."

* * *

Logan felt something strange as they neared Russell Edgington's residence. It started off as a minor hum in his bones, barely noticeable, but as he caught sight of the building, he felt as if there was electricity running through his body, and it wasn't pleasant. He twisted his head to glance back to see if any of the others had noticed it. He'd been squashed into Van Helsing's hummer, along with Sabretooth, Alcide, Juggernaut, Tin Man and Gambit, as well as all of Van Helsing's monster-busting equipment. It was a tight fit. None of them were small men, and Van Helsing had a lot of stuff. Actually, he'd been lucky to get the passenger seat. The others had to make do with whatever room there was at the back.

None of the others seemed to be reacting to the weird electrical pulses, even though it was becoming a loud buzz in Logan's head. Wait...it wasn't a buzz. It was a chorus of voices, all speaking in strange languages and he recognized none of them. He tried to block the sound. It didn't work. He stuck a finger in his ear. Nope, it had nothing to do with his ears. Van Helsing must have noticed his discomfort in the rear view mirror, because he reached over and placed a hand on Logan's shoulder for a brief moment.

Silence. And then there was just one voice, speaking very clearly in his head. 'You'll learn to control it soon,' it said. 'It's in your blood.'

"What the hell is in my blood?" Logan demanded out loud. All eyes turned to him. Great. Now they all thought he was mad, not that he cared about what they thought. He was wondering if he _was_ actually going mad.

* * *

"We can't get in." Those were the words Charles greeted them with when they finally arrived outside the royal residence. No introductions were given. None were needed. Magneto, Mystique, Storm; they all knew who he was the minute they came into his presence, and the other mutants quickly caught on. There would be a lot of explanations later, but for now, they were more interested in breaking and entering a vampire palace.

"Wards," said Van Helsing. "I should have known." He held out a hand, as if running it up and down and invisible wall. Logan copied him and found that there_ was_ an invisible wall. As soon as he touched that wall, the voices started up again, louder than before. "No one can get in or out at this point. The vampires don't want any movement whilst they're asleep, lest any threats get in."

"And they're right," growled Logan, "because I'm more than ready to stake each and every one of them."

"Count me in," said Sabretooth eagerly. He was always ready to kill something.

Juggernaut snorted. "Nothing can stop me," he said, and before anyone could stop him, he started running towards the invisible barrier, only to be propelled backwards when he actually hit it.

"I think something just did, bub," said Logan. It wasn't a smart thing to say, but he was pissed off, and all that pent up aggression had to go somewhere, right? It was lucky that Charles was there to get inside Juggernaut's head and control him. Otherwise, they would have been in for a very long fight, and they hadn't even seen or heard a vampire yet.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope no one hates me for making Russell more powerful. *Ducks stakes and garlic.* Now, will Logan ever figure out who Van Helsing is, or will he have to be told?


	27. V for Vendetta

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 27: V for Vendetta**

"Now, what do we do?" Logan demanded. It was the question that was on everyone's mind. He just happened to voice it, as always. For some reason, people were afraid of asking the obvious questions because they didn't want to sound stupid. Logan had no such qualms. They _already_ thought he was less than intelligent, and he saw no point in overthrowing their opinions of him as long as they didn't call him stupid.

"We need to wait for someone to come out," said Van Helsing. "I suspect that those who can pass through these wards have been marked in some way —it's rather like being given a magical key. Now, if this were a real door, I'd take the key and duplicate it. Magical doors work more or less in the same manner."

"You a wizard or something?" asked Logan, surprised. Van Helsing knew stuff, yes, but was he _really_ a grown up version of that Harry Potter boy? It sounded more and more like it.

"No, but I have what you would call 'wizards' working for me," said Van Helsing with a grin. "They create the tools I need to do whatever it is I have to do, whether it's cooking warlocks or roasting gargoyles, or, in this case, hunting vampires." He opened the door at the back of the hummer and pulled out a case. It was filled with all sorts of weird and wonderful things, none of which were recognizable. Everyone else crowded around the back of the hummer, all wanting to see what sort of tricks the monster hunter had.

"What's that?" asked Pyro, jerking his head in the direction of a box that was covered with a piece of black velvet.

"Something I'm hoping we don't have to use tonight," said Van Helsing, without glancing up from what he was doing. He took out something that looked suspiciously like a fancy paint roller with runes before closing the case again. Logan eyed the paint roller dubiously. He needed wizards to make one of those for him? Hell, they cost about fifteen dollars at the local home improvement store. "And now we just have to wait."

That was exactly what they did. As time went on, no one came out through that magical wall. Logan went and got himself a beer. Victor started filing his claws. Remy produced a pack of cards and proceeded to show Jubilee, Bobby and Kitty a few useful card tricks which they could use to cheat at a casino. This was real war; long periods of unbearable boredom punctuated by short bursts of unimaginable violence.

The street lights in the distance came on as the sun set behind the skyscrapers. Still, no one came out. Both Charles and Van Helsing had been conversing earlier on, probably planning something, as the two of them tended to do, but now they were both still. The telepath seemed to be probing something with his powers. As for Van Helsing, he looked as if he was trying to emulate a statue of Buddha. The sky gradually darkened until the last slice of sunlight disappeared behind the shadows of the city. The only remaining lights came from the thin sliver of moon, the faint stars, and the electrical lights from the city.

"What's this about attacking vampires while they were asleep?" Logan asked of the monster slayer, who raised one eyebrow at that rhetorical question. Yes, the Wolverine was more than just a bit pissed off about the delay, although he really couldn't blame Van Helsing. The man couldn't have known that no one would come out. He had said that he was only human multiple times, although Logan now had no doubt that he was omitting some things about himself.

"I miscalculated," said Van Helsing. "It happens."

"I suppose we could always wait until tomorrow morning," said Magneto thoughtfully, but he then caught sight of Logan's scowl. "Although that would not sit well with you, Wolverine. You are an impatient man."

"You got that much right," said Logan, almost growling. He barely tolerated Magneto's presence, and if given the slightest reason, he would have qualms about shooting that man full of cure darts again. Who cared if it wore off after a couple of months or weeks or whatever? It would be therapeutic for him at least. However, they needed the metal mangling mutant's powers tonight. Having someone who could throw silver was a huge advantage, and he was going to use it against this Edgington fellow.

"It's not going to work," said Alcide. He kicked the tyre of his truck. Logan knew that the werewolf blamed himself for not being able to fend off the vampires and V-wolves who had taken Sookie and Marie, and nothing anyone could say would be able to convince him otherwise. He was just that kind of guy. "Edgington either knows that someone will come for Sookie and Marie, or he's just taking precautions." The werewolf pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" said Logan. It wasn't that he thought Alcide would betray them, but he knew better than most that rash decisions often led to even more trouble. It didn't stop him from making them, of course; he had a hard time learning his own lessons.

"I'm calling Debbie," said Alcide. "I didn't want to get her any more involved than she has to be, but clearly, there's no other way." He turned to Van Helsing. "Can you promise me that she won't be hurt?"

"As long as she doesn't harm our mission, then yes, you have my word," said Van Helsing. "There's a tranquilizer gun in the glove box, if you need it." Having seen Debbie Pelt once at Josephine's, Logan was of the opinion that Alcide was definitely going to need it. That, and one of those really sturdy cages that people kept tigers in.

"I won't need it," said Alcide, "although I might need some help from Charles."

"I'd be more than happy to help," said the telepath.

* * *

Debbie was coming out to meet him, just as Alcide had hoped she would. The idea was that she would come out, Charles Xavier would make sure that she did not fight them whilst they duplicated her magical 'key'. The telepath had also offered to alter her personality, and Alcide had been sorely tempted to take up his offer, but somehow, he couldn't make himself change Debbie without her consent. Somewhere inside her, she was still the woman he'd loved, and still loved. Yes, he was pathetic, but he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to be a hopeless romantic.

The metal gates swung open for Debbie as she strode out. She looked around to see if any of her new pack was watching her. When she'd made certain that she was not being followed, she made her way into the wooded area that surrounded Edgington's estate. Alcide had promised that he would wait for her there. His own vehicle was parked some distance away, on the roadside with all the other vehicles, so as to avoid detection for the time being.

He straightened himself to his full impressive height when she caught sight of him. Debbie looked positively wild. Her new brand still seemed a bit red and angry, and she was wearing far too much eyeliner. She'd become thinner too, and harder, after she'd joined Edgington's pack of 'V-wolves', as Logan called them. "What do you want, Alcide?" she demanded, not even bothering with a greeting. "Don't you know that 'over' means 'over'? We're done."

"I'm sorry, Debbie," he said. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but then her eyes glazed over. He held out his hand to her and she took it without question, letting him lead her through the trees until he reached the others. She didn't even complain. It was as if she'd been glamoured by a vamp, except this telepath was better.

He watched with fascination and trepidation as Van Helsing ran the magical paint roller over Debbie. She stayed entirely still, no doubt the result of the telepath's work. "Gotcha," the man whispered as he took the paint roller away. It still looked exactly the same to Alcide. He then ran the roller over each of them, until he came to Logan, who was staring at the roller with complete shock and distrust.

"Why the hell is it glowing and buzzing?" asked the Wolverine.

"You can see the key," said Van Helsing. "That is good. That is very good."

* * *

Lacking anything to do, Sookie had eventually fallen asleep. Her body was exhausted, her mind was exhausted, and she knew she needed to conserve her strength if she was to ever escape this place and save Bill somehow.

She found herself standing in the cemetery that separated her house and Bill's house. Golden sunlight was filtering through the branches of the trees, illuminating the swirling remnant's of last night's mist. The grass was cool and soft beneath her feet. How did she get here? She looked around. She was alone, apart from the chirping of birds. It was so beautiful, so peaceful.

"Sookie," said a low melodious voice behind her. She whipped around to see a woman standing several feet away. She hadn't been there a second ago. "I've been waiting for you." The woman was beautiful, tall, with red hair that looked as it were on fire with the morning sun behind her. Unlike Arlene, who dyed her hair regularly to make sure that her roots didn't show, this woman's hair colour was natural. Her eyes were of a strange colour. They seemed golden, almost. She smiled and held out a slender hand to the telepath. Sookie noted how good she looked in her dress of red velvet. She wouldn't have thought that redheads could wear red easily, but this one pulled it off. Strangely enough, although she was inexplicably back in Bon Temps and talking to a strange woman in the cemetery, she wasn't afraid.

"Who are you?" she asked as she took the woman's hand. It was warm, and she also realized that she could not hear her thoughts. It wasn't like with a vampire, where she could sense a mental void. No. She was like Van Helsing. It was as if she wasn't there. "What are you?"

"I have many names, but you can call me Phoenix," said the woman. "I'm part of you, and I've been waiting for you."

* * *

Marie knew what all the commotion was about, although she was more confused about other things. The Professor had told her about Logan's plan —if it could be called a plan. Then again, that was Logan. He tended to adapt better than he could plan. What had her really confused was how had the Professor returned from the dead. Of course, she could always ask for the answer later. She was still trying to figure out a way to get her guard to open the door when the door was ripped from its hinges. She expected to see Logan, or Sabretooth, or even Eric, but instead, it was Sookie who stood in the splintered doorway. The broken body of her werewolf guard lay on the floor. "Come on!" said the telepath, before Marie could wonder how Sookie had managed all of this, "we have to go get Bill!"

"But we don't know where he is!" said Marie. What she really wanted to do was go find Logan and _then_ maybe find Bill. It was selfish, yes, but she wanted to live, and she wasn't sure that the two of them could rescue Bill on their own, since Edgington had ordered Bill to be killed. Heck, was he even still alive? Even if he were, he'd probably be under heavy guard. "We should get reinforcements!"

"There's no time!" said Sookie. "Look, I'm going, with or without you, Marie."

"You're going to get yourself killed!"

"For the record, who just freed you?" said Sookie. "I know what I'm doing, Cous. I can deal with this." There was something different about the telepath, although Marie didn't get a chance to ask her what had happened, because that was when they were discovered by a group of werewolves, who had probably been sent to make sure that the prisoners did not escape. There were five of them, all burly and snarling and very menacing. Marie pulled off her remaining glove and stuck it in her pocket. It wasn't really much use on its own —she wasn't into wearing mismatched gloves— but the satin was lovely, and she didn't really want to lose it. The gloves had been a gift.

The werewolves pounced, not even bothering to shift into their wolf forms, which was just as well. Marie's powers only worked on humans, it seemed. She could touch horses and the school's guinea pig with no adverse effects. A particularly nasty-smelling werewolf lunged at her and knocked her to the carpet. Her smell had become more sensitive after she'd taken Eric's blood, and it had already been heightened from the multiple times Logan had given her his life force. As he pinned her to the floor, she reached up and grabbed his throat. His life flowed through her skin and into her limbs; she felt his rage, his strength, his bloodlust, his animal instinct. She could see things as he saw them, smell things as he smelled them, and she could even glimpse his thoughts. He thought she was just a meal, and maybe a good fuck. That angered her, and she felt no remorse as the life drained out of him. She scrambled to her feet. That was one down, but there were four more, and who knew who else they would encounter later? The werewolves were wary now, and she noted with much surprise that there were only three left. One of them lay at Sookie's feet, his neck twisted at a very wrong angle. Another wolf was suspended in midair, in mid-change. Sookie looked as confounded as Marie did.

There was no time to be confused, however. Russell Edgington must have realized that the mutants were trying to get them out, and he'd sent more reinforcements up to make sure that his prizes were not taken away from him. These werewolves seemed smarter, more organized, and they were furious. Sookie tried to do whatever it was that she'd done again, but maybe she'd used up her powers, or maybe she wasn't in the mood anymore. Whatever it was, nothing happened when she waved her hands. That was _not_ good.

Well, the best defence was an offence. The 'Logan' part of Marie leapt into action. She tackled one of the werewolves before he could change, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing with all her might. As the life drained out of the werewolf, she felt claws tearing at her back as the other werewolves came to the aid of one of their own. Sookie was screaming, but there was nothing she could do now that she couldn't use the power that she had accessed before.

They were probably going to die, but at least they were going to die fighting, which was an improvement from waiting for death. It was too bad that the werewolves, in their wolf form, were immune to the power of her skin. Claws bit into her shoulder, tearing cloth, skin and flesh. This wasn't the worst she'd experienced —Magneto's machine trumped all— and she was surprised that she wasn't getting a more severe mauling, not that she was complaining or anything.

There was a sharp yelp as someone pulled the wolves off her. The yelp was cut off sharply by the dull crack of bone as it was broken. The wolves forgot about her as they tried to deal with this new assault. Wincing as she moved, Marie got to her feet and whipped around so she could see what was going on. There was a vampire ripping those werewolves apart. A very familiar vampire.

Eric discarded the body of the last wolf and spat out the flesh in his mouth. Blood dripped from his fangs, down his chin and onto his light blue sweater. His nostrils flared, and there was a wild light in his blue eyes. Marie gaped at him, not because she was surprised to see him like this, but because she was surprised that he interfered at all. Hadn't he said something about not being able to help? Then again, the status quo had changed. Her boss hadn't anticipated the attack on Russell Edgington's residence.

"You can walk?" he said. His voice was harsh, almost like a growl. She nodded, still unable to speak. The lacerations on her back weren't deep, or else she'd be feeling them a lot more, and her legs were fine. Even if she wasn't all that fine, the adrenaline in her body, plus the strength she'd absorbed from the two wolves she'd killed, made her feel as if she was capable of running a marathon.

"Good," he growled. She wondered what he would have done if she had said she wasn't able to walk, and then decided that this was yet another question to be answered at a later date, if it was to be answered at all.

"Come on!" said Sookie, who'd finally found her voice. "We have to go get Bill!"

"_We_ don't have to do anything except get out of here," said Eric. He had yet to retract his fangs; the only word to describe him right now was 'menacing'.

"Fine," said Sookie. "_I'll_ go get Bill." Eric growled and lunged for her.

* * *

He meant to grab the stubborn human and sling her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, but something inexplicable happened. He found himself being thrown back by an unknown force, as if a titan had struck him squarely in the chest. With a hammer. He flew backwards and into the wall. It cracked upon impact and bits of plaster showered down on him. He snarled. _No_ one threw Eric Northman into a wall without repercussions, especially _not_ tiny human females who really shouldn't have had the strength to do such a thing. Yes, his pride was bruised; he was not going to deny it. He should have killed her right then, but she was already running down the corridor in the wrong direction, and his daywalker was going to follow her if he didn't do something. He snagged Marie by the waist, causing her to yelp in surprise and pain. He didn't care enough. Her injuries were not life-threatening and the nephilim would kill him if anything happened to her. He carried her under his arm as if she was an oversized parcel and ignored all her protests.

"Eric, she's going to get herself killed!" she was saying. "I have to go help her! She's family!"

"You're no use to your cousin, or anyone else, if you're dead," he snarled at her. "Now shut up." Thankfully, she was smart enough to do as she was told. Wait...no. He could sense that she was plotting, or thinking very hard at least. Well, at least she was thinking, which was more than he could say for the obsessed telepath.

The house was burning. That much was obvious, judging by the smell of smoke as the unseen flames ate through expensive paintings and irreplaceable antique tapestries.

He had every intention of delivering the girl into the hands of her friends, whilst keeping Edgington oblivious to the fact that he was not on Mississippi's side, but that was until he saw a very distraught Talbot.

* * *

Kitty and Bobby made a beeline for the slave quarters, where the Professor had said Sookie would be. She had her arm wrapped around his waist and together, they ran through anything that got in their way, including a pack of pissed-off werewolves who were driving a truck directly at them. They were even more pissed-off when the two young mutants simply ran through the truck.

The lawn, if such a large expanse of grass could be called a lawn was almost completely dark. Vampires, it seemed, didn't need any light in order to see things, and werewolves could rely on their sense of hearing and smell. It was lucky for them that Pyro had set part of the main house on fire.

The slave quarters looked abandoned, but if the Professor said Sookie was in there, then Sookie was in there. Kitty had no idea what the telepath was doing in a place like this when there was a mansion full of vampires who were after her. Any rational person would have gotten out of there. She ran through the thin shabby wooden walls. The paint had almost all peeled away, leaving only wooden planks darkened with age. In a few more years, the termites would completely demolish this place.

There was a single candle burning on an old wooden table, next to a pile of metal implements whose purpose Kitty really didn't want to think about. Most of them were sharp, with dried blood and burned skin on them. She let go of Bobby. There. She could hear strange sounds like thick liquid being sucked up a straw. Bobby went in ahead of her, picking up the candle so that they would have some light to see by. At first, they thought they'd walked in on two people having sex. The man was crouched above the woman, covering most of her almost naked body. _He_ was as naked as the day he was born. It wasn't until Bobby hauled him off that she realized the man was actually a vampire, and he had been sucking blood from the neck of an unconscious Sookie.

* * *

The surge of hatred and anger and grief she suddenly felt almost made her ill. Where had it come from? She saw no reason for the way she felt, and then she realized that the feelings didn't belong to her. Yes, she had a bit of skin contact with Eric. They belonged to him, but why was he suddenly reacting this way? He set her down on the floor, and before she'd even regained her balance, he'd lunged at the smaller vampire, who didn't notice until it was too late.

There was a scream, but it was cut short as Eric ripped the vampire's head off. She could only gape at him dumbly. Couldn't he have pretended that he was recapturing her and fooled the other vampire into thinking that he was on his team? Of course, he was a vampire, and vampires were very difficult to understand. They didn't think in a manner that most humans would consider to be rational. She didn't exactly have time to gape anyway. 'Out,' the Professor was saying inside her head. 'You have to get out, Rogue. Kurt will be coming for you.'

As if that was the cue, there was a burst of blue smoke as the German teleporter materialized. Marie cried out his name in relief and delight. She'd always liked Kurt. He was always so kind to everyone, and in this instance, he was going to be her salvation, or at least her shortcut out of here.

Eric whipped around at the sound of Kurt's teleporting —which was a mix between the popping of a balloon and the sound of a rocket taking off. His bloodlust was raging, and there was a wild light in his eyes, the same light that Logan got in his eyes when the 'beast' took over him. From her experience, when that primal and instinctive creature took hold of a man's mind, it was really difficult for the human part of him to reassert himself, and Eric was a top predator, not a human.

She was definitely on a roll tonight when it came to bad ideas, because she threw herself between a raging vampire and his potential prey, as if that was actually going to deter said vampire. To him, she was probably a half-sized appetizer, like those tiny little half olives on toothpicks that they served at fancy parties on television. It said a lot for Eric's self-control that he actually hesitated and stopped.

"You know him?" he said. His voice was hoarse and low, like the rumbling growl of a hungry lion before he went in for the kill.

"He's a friend," said Marie. "He's a teleporter."

"The Professor told me to get Fraulein Marie outside," said Kurt, speaking up for the first time. He sounded hostile. Well, as hostile as Kurt could sound, which meant that he sounded slightly cold. The German desperately needed animosity lessons from Logan.

"Then get us out of here," said Eric.

* * *

This was the toughest fight Logan had ever gotten himself into, and that was saying a lot. He'd lived through two world wars, Vietnam, and trashed a secret high-tech underground government base, and those were only the fights that he could recall. However, none of them compared to the vampire that he was fighting at the moment. No, Russell Edgington wasn't much to look at, but he was impossibly fast and strong, and he could also throw people through walls with a flick of his finger. The only reason why he'd been able to latch onto the Vampire King was because Magneto had thrown half a dozen heavy duty silver chains —courtesy of Van Helsing— at him in conjunction with Pyro's fireballs.

He tried to decapitate the vampire, but he found himself at the bottom, with a snarling king about to bite into his throat, even though Logan's claws were stuck in his chest. It took him all his strength to keep the vampire at arm's length. He knew his blood did something to vampires; it made them stronger than usual and healed them at a miraculous pace. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he wasn't interested in the details at the moment. All he knew was that he could not let this particular vampire, who was already powerful enough, get a taste of his blood.

Everyone else was occupied; too occupied to help him, at any rate. Sabretooth was fending off what seemed like an entire pack of werewolves and enjoying himself way too much. Logan suspected that he'd had a couple of mouthfuls of vampire blood, taken from that vampire whose spine he'd ripped out. Sabretooth on V; it was not a good thought.

Van Helsing was staking vampires left and right. The only problem was that he'd run out of wooden stakes and had to resort to using a collapsible silver stake, crossbow bolts —with wooden shafts and silver tips— and whatever pieces of broken wooden furniture he could get his hands on. There was certainly no lack of those. He was working as a team with Mystique, and the two coordinated their actions perfectly, as if they were executing a perfectly choreographed dance of death.

This was truly one of the worst plans they'd ever carried out, and to be quite honest, Logan had executed some goddamn awful plans that shouldn't even be called plans. They'd completely underestimated the enemy, their numbers and their capabilities. No one had expected that there were something like a hundred, or maybe three hundred, vampires in this place, and the vampire king's magical powers had certainly come as a nasty shock.

All of a sudden, Edgington let out a pained wail that was so terrible and grating that it chilled Logan to the bone. He sounded like one of those cloaked banshee things in that trilogy of movies about a bunch of midgets and a ring. The vampire pulled himself off Logan's claws and before the Wolverine could figure out what was going on, he had disappeared.


	28. A Midsummer Night's Dream

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 28: A Midsummer Night's Dream**

He didn't run away from fights, but he did pick his fights. When he'd killed Talbot, he'd known that Edgington would sense it, just as he would sense it if someone had sent Pam to her true death. Eric wasn't quite ready to die yet, at least not when he had very little chance of taking his enemy with him. The slaying of Talbot had been a rash and impulsive action, one which both his maker and his brother would have cautioned against. Alas, he didn't have their degree of cold control and rationality; he'd always been a rash man and not even a thousand years could change that completely.

When he'd caught sight of Talbot, it had occurred to him that the only way to make Russell Edgington feel the pain that he'd felt and carried for a thousand years had been to take away the one which he loved most. Talbot had been the only being in the world that Edgington seemed to care for at all. That had been all the motivation Eric had needed.

Now that he thought about it, he was a bit ashamed of how impulsive he'd been. He'd let his need for revenge render him blind to the bigger picture. Now he had a three-thousand year old vampire after his blood, and a king, no less. He was a sheriff, and a currently disgraced one at that. He was completely outmatched. Still, there was no point in regretting what he'd done. Given another chance, he'd probably have done exactly the same thing. He was who he was. The most important thing now was to make sure that he survived and that Edgington did not. It was easier said than done. Of course, he wasn't entirely without hope. He had a nephilim, a group of highly trained mutants who had the best technology he'd ever seen, the support of a powerful Queen _and_ the Sicilian Mafia. Although he didn't like involving the Europeans in American disputes, technically, this was his family dispute and it made complete sense to keep his brother in the loop. After all, Balian had sworn to help.

The Viking was itching to go back in there and join in the battle, but it seemed that the others were retreating and returning to the jet, which was in an almost empty airfield somewhere close to the poorer suburbs of the city.

"Oh," said the teleporter suddenly. Eric still had not gotten over the fact that he'd been teleported by the blue-skinned German. "I have to go." Before anyone could ask him why and where he had to go, he'd disappeared, leaving Eric and Marie alone on a futuristic jet. Now, under normal circumstances, if Eric had been left alone anywhere with an attractive human female, he would have doubtless come up with 'activities' for the two of them to do. However, at the moment, all he was thinking about was whether the jet had any weaponry and how to pilot it, just in case he needed to know these things.

He glanced over at Marie, wondering if she knew how to work this thing. He could feel her discomfort. Those lacerations on her shoulder, although not deep, were bothering her more than she was willing to let on. In this aspect, she was so similar to Sookie. Maybe it was a trait of southern women, to hide their personal troubles and put on a brave face for the world. Then again, he'd had the fortune of knowing a lot of women like that, and a lot of them weren't southern.

"I could tend to those scratches, if you wish," he said quietly. "Werewolf claws are not clean."

"What?" she said, clearly startled. "Oh, um...that's really kind of you..." Her skin was flushed, not because she was ill. She was definitely feeling very shy around him, and he knew exactly why. "There's a first aid kit—"

"I have no need for human first aid kits," said Eric. He wouldn't know what to do with one anyway. He was behind her in an instant. She stiffened, but did not move when he pulled the ripped shoulder of her shirt away from her to reveal four parallel scratches. The two in the middle were deeper than the ones on the outside. The bleeding had slowed down, thanks to his blood, which she'd ingested earlier, but it hadn't stopped entirely. He bent down and ran his tongue over those scratches. Her blood was...well, it was relatively clean, for a modern human, and it left a slight tingle on his tongue, almost as if it was carbonated. She jerked as his tongue touched her skin. "Relax," he murmured. "You will heal quicker this way."

At that moment, the teleporter returned, and he wasn't alone.

* * *

The vampire lunged at Bobby with a roar, and the mutant barely had time to transform into ice before he was knocked over. The vampire tried to bite his neck, but since he was biting ice, his fangs slipped off. There was a blur of movement as Bobby managed to throw him off. This must be a severely weakened vampire if he could do that. A blast of cold air ripped through the tiny room. Kitty felt the sting of ice crystals on her face and she knew that Bobby had frozen the vampire. Could vampires die from being snap-frozen?

There was no time to think about that. She rushed to Sookie's side. There was so much blood soaking the ripped remains of the other girl's dress. Was she even still alive? The younger girl felt desperately for a pulse. "Sookie?" she whispered. "Please, please, don't be dead."

It must have been a miracle, because the telepath briefly opened her eyes. "Bill?" she whispered.

"Bill?" said Kitty. Who was—wait, wasn't he the vampire who had been kidnapped by werewolves? Was he the snap-frozen vampire?

"Quickly," said Bobby, who was still in his ice form. "We have to get her out of here."

"We have to get the vampire too," said Kitty. "I think that's her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? He tried to kill her, and we can't take both of them!"

Before Kitty could answer, there was a muffled 'pop' as Kurt appeared. "The Professor said you needed help," said the teleporter, "so here I am."

* * *

Teleporting always made her a little queasy, and Kitty closed her eyes tightly as she felt herself hurtling through a hole in the time-space continuum, or whatever it was that they were hurtling through. She felt Bobby give her hand a squeeze. He knew how much she didn't like this. Relief surged in her when she felt something solid beneath her feet again. She opened her eyes, only to wish that she hadn't done that a moment later.

Rogue was sitting on the edge of one of the seats, with the shoulder of her shirt pulled down. The huge blond vampire was bending over her and..._licking_ her shoulder? She felt as if she'd accidentally walked in on them making out. Actually, scratch that. Making out would have been less provocative than shoulder licking. As it was, Rogue let out a squeak and quickly pulled her shirt back up. Her face was the colour of a cooked lobster, as the French would say, but she quickly recovered from her embarrassing moment when she saw her cousin.

* * *

The hummer screeched to a halt beside the jet. Logan all but tumbled out. The adrenaline still coursing through his veins meant that he was finding it very difficult to control his primal urge, the 'beast', as he called it. It hadn't had enough blood tonight. Not nearly enough. God, he sounded like a vampire. The others were already rushing into the jet, excepting a few. Alcide was staring at it as if it was a UFO or something like that. He'd changed into a wolf for the fight, and now he'd changed back, and he was stark naked. Ah, well, there wasn't much to be done about it.

"You own this?" whispered the werewolf.

"It's school property," said Logan as he followed the others up the steps.

"My school had a bus," said Alcide. He followed Logan up the steps.

"We've got one of those too, but it ain't so good for long distance travel," said Logan. He might have joked a bit more about buses and jets —what could he say? Fights like those made him feel weird— but he stopped. Something was wrong. A crowd had gathered around a prone form on one of the jet's emergency bunks. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Compton's almost drained Sookie," said Northman flatly. He seemed to be the only one who was capable of stringing together a coherent sentence. "They wanted to give her a transfusion with True Blood, but it seems that she has no blood type."

"Well, what are you waitin' for?" said Logan. "Give her your blood, or his blood, or some other vamp's blood! Doesn't vampire blood heal humans or something?"

"Unfortunately, the fact that she has no blood type means that she's not fully human," said Van Helsing. "I know of her kind and from what I've heard, her other side has manifested itself tonight. It could be dangerous for her to ingest more vampire blood until we are certain what effects it might have on her."

"We have to get her to a hospital," said Logan. "They'll know what to do."

"It's not safe," said Mystique. Her voice was neutral. He always thought that she was a heartless bitch, and here she was, confirming his opinion. "Edgington will be hunting for us. We don't know why he left so suddenly, but I doubt that a vampire ruler would just give up like that."

As she was speaking, Van Helsing had knelt down beside the bunk. Sookie looked so still and pale, as if she was already dead. Only the sound of her heartbeat, so faint that it was nearly indiscernible, told Logan that she was still alive. Just. Van Helsing placed a hand on her forehead and bowed his head. "Oh, since we can't get her the proper medical help she needs, you're just going to _pray_ over her?" said Logan. He was being rude and unfair and he knew it. He was just so frustrated. Sure, he hadn't known Sookie for very long, but he liked her and he'd promised to protect her, just as he'd promised to take care of Marie and all the other kids at the school, and look what had happened. "Let's just fuck science and go with medieval superstition, shall we?"

"You have so little faith, Wolverine," said Van Helsing. He sounded like a parent lecturing a child, and Logan did _not_ care for that at all.

* * *

Sookie didn't know where she was. Pale wisps of mist lingered over green rolling hills, swirling around her as she walked. The grass was cool and soft and wet beneath her feet. She found that she was wearing a long gown that seemed white at first, but upon closer inspection, shimmered with many colours. It was so light that she hardly felt it, and the material was unbelievably soft. Not even silk was this soft. She didn't know where exactly she was going, but something was calling to her. There was a circle of huge stones in the near distance, and there were people within that circle. They were sitting around the fire and they seemed to be celebrating something, because she could hear the faint strains of hauntingly beautiful music.

One of the party-goers spotted her and she waved to her, inviting the telepath to join them. Although she had no idea what was going on, Sookie was strangely unafraid. Somehow, this felt right. A sense of déjà vu washed over her as she neared the stone circle. She felt as if she'd been here before. Everything felt familiar, although she could not, for the life of her, ever remember seeing anything like this. If she wasn't mistaken, this was Stonehenge, or something just like it. There wasn't anything like this in Louisiana. She was quite sure of that; it was the only thing she could be certain of.

The woman who had invited her to join in the merry-making was yet another impossibly beautiful creature. Unlike Phoenix, she had the sun-kissed skin and the thickest and darkest hair Sookie had ever seen. It fell in waves down her back. Her gown was just like the telepath's, made of that beautiful lustrous material. "Come, Sookie," said the woman. "We have been waiting for you."

"Who's 'we'?" asked Sookie as she allowed the woman to take her by the hand and lead her over to the fire. "Why does it seem that everyone is always waiting for me?"

"Who else has been waiting for you?" asked the woman.

"Just a lot of people," said Sookie. She didn't want to mention Phoenix. Phoenix was her secret. "Who are you?"

"My name's Claudine," said the woman. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you." She shook her head. "I've done a fine job, haven't I?"

"You can't blame yourself for all my problems," said Sookie, a little bewildered by this revelation. Was this her guardian angel? Claudine was certainly beautiful enough to be an angel. "I chose them."

"Yes, you do seem to walk straight into trouble all the time," Claudine agreed. She handed Sookie a crystal cup full of a sparkling golden liquid that resembled the yellow diamond that she'd once seen in a magazine. It smelled delicious too, like a mix between roses and honey. She was about to take a sip, when a voice —a man's voice— rang out. It was a very familiar voice, only it had taken on an otherworldly quality, for his voice made the very stones of the circle hum, as if they were welcoming him or warning others against him.

"Do not eat or drink from this banquet," said Van Helsing. He had appeared from nowhere, and he seemed so out of place, with his leather jacket, rock t-shirt, well-fitting jeans and heavy duty boots. Still, he managed to seem as if he owned the place. "Or else you will remain here forever."

"Mr. Van Helsing?" said Sookie. "What are you doing here? Do you know this place?"

"I am familiar with it, Miss Stackhouse," said Van Helsing. "And I have come to bring you back."

"Back? Back where?"

"Home," said Van Helsing.

"Sookie is home, milord," said Claudine. Her voice was still soft, but there seemed to be a hint of fear in it now, and a lot of reverence. "She belongs with her people. We can protect her from the encroaching darkness."

"You forget, Claudine Brigant, that she is still mostly human," said Van Helsing. "And she has a human life to return to. You were trying to trick her into staying."

"Forgive me, Archangel," said Claudine. She bowed to Van Helsing. Sookie just stared. Archangel? In a leather jacket? Whatever happened to white wings and robes? And a shave? "I did not want to trick her, but Niall said that it would be for the best." Who was Niall? What did he want? And what did Van Helsing mean by 'tricking' her to stay? She had so many questions that she wanted to ask, but now didn't seem to be the time. Anyway, she doubted she was going to get answers even if she asked.

"Brigant presumes too much," said Van Helsing. "You have a good heart, Claudine. I know you well enough to say that. You should not fear him so much."

"Niall has no power over you, Archangel," said Claudine with a wry smile. "Of course you would say that."

"He wouldn't have power over you if you didn't permit it," said Van Helsing. "But I do not think he will fault you, since _I_ was the one who disrupted his plan. And if he gives you trouble, you can always find me, or one of my brothers."

"Of course," said Claudine.

"Now, if you and your kindred will excuse us," said Van Helsing. "Miss Stackhouse and I must have a few words in private." Whilst they had been speaking, most of the merrymakers had already left. The fire had been put out. There wasn't even a pile of soot and charcoal to mark the place where it had been.

"Of course, milord," said Claudine. She turned to go, but she'd only taken a few steps before she turned around again. "Gabriel?" she asked.

"Yes, Claudine?" said Van Helsing.

"Will I be seeing you again soon?"

"I daresay you will," said Van Helsing. Claudine smiled. She was so beautiful when she smiled.

"Goodbye, Sookie," said Claudine. "And please, try and stay out of trouble." Before Sookie could reply, the woman had disappeared into thin air, as if she'd never existed at all. The telepath was now alone in the stone circle with Van Helsing.

"Archangel?" asked Sookie. "_You're _the Archangel Gabriel?"

"I take it you weren't expecting that," said Van Helsing.

"Oh no, buddy, I definitely wasn't," said Sookie. "So what is this place? Who is Claudine? What am I doing here?"

"You could say that this is your dream," said Van Helsing. "You've wandered very far, Sookie Stackhouse; beyond the borders of your own dimension. I have to take you back before it's too late." He held out a hand to Sookie and waited for her to take it. She did so. He was an archangel, after all. He couldn't mean to do anything bad, right?

Although there were no landmarks beyond the stone circle, Van Helsing knew exactly where he was going. The landscape passed by so quickly that Sookie barely had any time to take it all in. Vampire and angels both had speed in common, it seemed. She found herself standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the surface of a glassy lake. The water seemed so dark, so deep, and so cold. Sookie didn't like to admit it, but she feared water; she'd done so ever since her parents' car had been swept away by a flash flood, with the two of them in it. Their bodies had never been recovered.

"Do you trust me?" asked Van Helsing.

"You're an angel. Do I have a choice?" she asked. Van Helsing laughed.

"Of course you do," he said. "You are mostly human, like I said, and humans always have the freedom to choose."

"I suppose I have no reason not to," said Sookie.

"Good," said Van Helsing. "Keep my secret safe. No one must know."

"Then why don't you make me forget?" said Sookie. "You can do that, can't you?"

"I can, but that would be a serious violation of your right as a human," said Van Helsing. "I suspect you won't remember very much of this, because it is technically a dream, but just in case you do remember, I want you to keep it to yourself. It might prove to be crucial. Now, hold on tight, and don't be afraid."

Before she could protest, he'd swept her into his arms and jumped off the cliff. The two of them hurtled through the air before smashing the lake's still surface.

* * *

The light, the power. There was no doubt about it. Eric could only stare at the man who was kneeling by Sookie's bunk, with his hand on her forehead. How could he not have recognized him earlier? Was it really possible to forget the man —or rather, the archangel— who'd staked him in the knee with a silver stake and then spared his life? He remembered that night very clearly. He'd been a young vampire there, barely five decades old. The archangel had come for Godric, and Eric, being who he was, had tried his best to defend his maker. The archangel had crippled him, and he could have very easily killed him, but he'd spared Eric's life as an act of mercy because he'd said that the young vampire had done nothing to warrant a true death. At least, not then. Circumstances had changed since that night, of course. Maybe this time the archangel had come for him instead. Who knew?

Sookie suddenly opened her eyes. Despite not having received any blood and lost way too much of her own, she was alive. And even a little bit lucid. Van Helsing rose to his feet. His seemed tired. "She'll live," he declared. He turned to Logan. "A little faith goes a long way, Logan. I hope you've learnt something."

Eric, who had been watching everything from some distance, stepped aside to let Van Helsing pass. No matter why the angel was here, Eric owed him for sparing his life. That, and he was high above him on the supernatural hierarchy. Godric had taught him the law of the ancients. Divine creatures like angels —and by extension, the offspring of angels— were to be respected, because there was no way to estimate their power. This angel might have hunted Godric, but Godric had never been disrespectful towards him in any way. If Godric had respected him, then Eric felt that it was right that he should show him reverence as well.

As Van Helsing passed him, the angel suddenly met Eric's gaze. The vampire fought the urge to look down. Respect was one thing; he was not going to show fear.

_Keep my secret_, the archangel said. The words were not spoken, but Eric heard them keenly. Van Helsing nodded and then released the vampire from his gaze, leaving him to ponder whether fate had meant for him to encounter both Gabriel and his son.

* * *

**A/N: **Here's another update! Things have been rather hectic lately, as we've just had a pretty big earthquake down here. So, anyway, I've decided to throw in some basic faerie lore, as well as make up some of my own stuff. Hope you enjoyed it!


	29. War Games

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 29: War Games **

As she came to her senses, she realized that she felt awful, as if her arms and legs and spine had all turned into rubber. And she was cold. Very cold. Apparently, this was what extreme blood loss felt like. Sookie tried to suppress a shiver and failed. Everyone seemed to notice at once. Blankets were wrapped around her, three people were asking her if she was all right —obviously not, or else she wouldn't be shivering and feeling weak— and someone was making her drink something that tasted decidedly foul.

"Where's Bill?" she managed to ask, in amidst the commotion.

"Thawing in the cargo hold," said Logan with very little sympathy. "According to Northman, that's gotta hurt, not that he doesn't deserve some pain for what he's done to you."

It all came back to her. Lorena had lunged at her before she had even fully opened the door. She remembered suspending the female vampire in midair, using her newfound powers. Bill had been chained to a chair, bloodied and half naked. Smoke had risen from his body where the silver chains had come into contact with his skin. She had been so furious at the sight of her tortured lover —ex-lover— that the stake had risen on its own without her even thinking about it. She'd thrown Lorena backwards, again, with her unnerving new powers which she did not understand, and before the vampire could have recovered, Sookie had plunged the sharpened piece of wood into her cold unbeating heart.

She remembered untying Bill from the chair. Lorena's blood and other bodily fluids had been drying on her body. Peeling away the chains had been a painful process. Bill had been barely lucid, and she'd known that she could not carry him. Her powers, it seemed, were triggered by blind fury. Since she'd ceased to be angry, she had no longer been able to use them. So when Bill had suddenly attacked her, she'd been totally helpless.

Sookie reached up to touch the two puncture wounds in her neck. Someone had put a gauze pad over it and taped it to her tightly with what seemed like the entire roll of medical tape. Everyone was still looking down at her with concern, although she was only searching for one face. He still looked the same as he did in her dream, only he seemed more tired and very much human. Gabriel. The _Archangel_ Gabriel. She didn't remember the names of the other people, or even what had happened in her dream, but her mind was not so addled that she could not remember the revelation of the angel's identity. "Thank you," she whispered. God, she sounded weak. Wait, she really shouldn't be taking the Lord's name in vain in front of an archangel. That was wrong.

Van Helsing dipped his head in acknowledgement of her thanks. No one else had realized who she had been talking to, or so she hoped. She'd feel really bad if she was one the one who foiled the angel's plan, whatever it was.

* * *

New York. It was the safest place to be. Not only did the mutants have a stronghold there —he'd talked to Pam on the phone earlier, and she had assured him that the mutants' security was better than Sophie-Ann's— but he'd also be in Sibylla's territory. It was humiliating, yes, but Sibylla did care for him, as much as she could care for anyone, and she probably wouldn't let anyone just take him from her state. It wasn't so much going into hiding as beating a strategic retreat. He _would_ return to his area. Just...not yet.

It was just past midnight when his phone rang again. He checked the caller ID and then grimaced to himself. It was the Queen, and not the one he wanted to hear from. Actually, he'd had enough of all royalty at the moment. However, at this moment in time, it was vital that he knew everything there was to know about Sophie-Ann and Edgington. The Queen of Louisiana was the only one who could clear his name concerning the sale of V, and he was well-versed in the maxim of keeping one's enemies closer than one's friends.

He managed to find a relatively private spot at the back of the jet to take his call. "Your Majesty," he said. He somehow managed to sound delighted at the prospect of talking to Sophie-Ann. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cut the crap, Northman," said Sophie-Ann. "I know you framed me for that counter-raid on your bar."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Eric.

"Yes, and I own Wall Street," snapped the Queen. "I didn't call to talk about that. The Magister knows that it's my blood that you were selling. They're launching a formal investigation." Sophie-Ann sounded rather desperate. Eric didn't feel a lot of sympathy for her. One, he wasn't a particularly sympathetic man and two, she deserved it. "All the sheriffs are meeting in that little backwater town where Bill Compton lives tomorrow to discuss a counter plan." Eric frowned. Why would the queen want to meet her sheriffs in Bon Temps, of all places? He tentatively asked her.

"The Magister has traced the blood back to New Orleans," said Sophie-Ann. "I don't want to deal with him right now. Not yet. He won't expect me to go to some town that doesn't even have a decent hotel." There was a beep on Eric's phone, signalling that there was another incoming call. He was half-tempted to hang up on Sophie-Ann and talk to whoever else was calling him, but he decided that he'd done enough stupid things for one night. "I expect you to be there, Northman."

Eric raised an eyebrow. She still expected him to be loyal to her _after_ what she'd done? Well, he supposed it would be to his benefit too, if he planned this accordingly. He wasn't going to go alone. No, he was going to show Sophie-Ann just how much he _didn't _need her.

"Be there," snapped Sophie-Ann. She hung up on him and he was free to turn his attention to his other caller.

"Eric, you made me wait for a long time," said Sibylla before he could even say a single word. "You know, when I call you about important information, I do not expect to be kept waiting." What, no 'darling', 'cheri', 'My Vicious Viking' —she liked say that the same way advertisers would say 'My Little Pony', just to rile him up— or other ridiculous meaningless endearments? It must be very serious indeed.

"It was Sophie-Ann on the other end," said Eric.

"Yes, well, you should have hung up on the common-born bitch after that trick she pulled on you. What did she want?"

"She's calling a meeting of all her sheriffs. It's no business of yours. What did you wish to tell me?"

"Have you watched tonight's news?" Eric frowned. She called to ask him _that_?

"I've been a little busy, Sibylla," he said. "And I'm in a jet right now, so don't tell me to turn on the television."

"No, I'm going to ask you to ask the metamorph to turn on the television that they have on the jet," said Sibylla. Damn, did she really know _everything_, including the fact that there was an inbuilt television in the 'X-Jet'?

"Why don't you just tell me and get it over with?" said the Viking impatiently. He still had to tell the metamorph to turn the jet around and head for Shreveport. He would be walking into the lion's den, so to speak, but he didn't want to be a fugitive forever. Perhaps he could somehow strike a bargain with Sophie-Ann and get her to clear his name in exchange for...something.

"Edgington ripped out a newsman's spine on live television tonight," said Sibylla. "He's declared war on the humans."

"_What_?" hissed Eric. "Has he gone mad? Doesn't he know that we will lose? They have weapons of mass destruction, for fuck's sake, and we're dead during the day!"

"It may have slipped his mind," said Sibylla. "I'll ask him when I next see him. And _don't_ hang up on me yet, Eric Northman. There's more. The Sheriffs of Louisiana Areas Two, Six and Eleven have been receiving large sums of money from an unidentified off-shore account weekly. My people have tracked the account to the Cayman Islands, but so far, I haven't got a name. Something's off about all of this, especially with this sudden meeting of sheriffs that you've just told me about."

"Thanks, Sibylla," said Eric. For the first time in many years, he actually wasn't angry at her after having spoken to her, and he was genuinely grateful for the information she'd given him. He might not know its significance yet, but he had a feeling that he was going to find out very soon. "I'll be sure to keep both eyes open."

"Be careful, Viking," said Sibylla. She even sounded a little affectionate, and it wasn't that fake charm that she layered on so perfectly for her television and public appearances. "We might have been over centuries ago, but I would still be a little bit upset if you met your final death. I have never found another bed partner like you, and frankly, it would be a shame to let all that talent go to waste."

* * *

He knew they wouldn't understand, but things were already going as he'd planned. His fifteen minutes in the spotlight had been crucial. Humans were stupid creatures. According to their logic, since one Muslim ordered for planes to be crashed into the World Trade Centre, then all Muslims were terrorists. It didn't make one iota of sense, but no one ever said that humans were rational, which suited him just fine because their irrationality and tendency to view bad examples as being the norm for a certain group were vital to his plan. He was relying on a backlash from the human public.

Russell smirked as he watched politicians on television decry his 'heinous crime' and Nan Flanagan's pathetic attempts at salvaging the reputation of vampires. That woman represented the shame of all vampires. Why should they, these immortal top predators, stoop down to the level of their vastly inferior prey? By turning the entire human population against their blood-drinking neighbours, he was forcing the vampires of the North American continent to band together against this threat, thus putting a stop to this ridiculous mainstreaming business. They would need a leader, and who better than him, Russell Edgington, a three thousand year old king who knew how to manipulate the earth's latent magic? First blood had already been shed tonight. He idly stroked the lidded crystal vase that was sitting on his lap as he stretched his legs out on the loveseat. He remembered how delighted Talbot had been when he'd won this vase at an antique auction in the seventies, so it was fitting that it now housed all that remained of his lover.

"Don't worry, my love," he crooned. "You will be avenged. That lump of undead Viking will pay for what he did to you." It was merely a convenient coincidence that the first phase of his plan involved annexing Louisiana. The Sophie-Ann and her sheriffs were going to be meeting in that little backwater town tomorrow night. Paul Bettany, the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Eleven had arranged everything, in conjunction with the sheriffs of areas Two and Six. Together, they'd managed to convince the hapless queen of Louisiana that she had to call this meeting in order to get herself out of her current predicament. He doubted that Northman would refuse the summons of his queen. Tomorrow night, heads were going to roll, or disintegrate, depending on the timeframe.

* * *

"The queen wants to meet her sheriffs in _Bon Temps_?" said Sookie incredulously. "Why?" Bill had an idea about why, but he kept silent about it. One part of him wanted to tell her, but another part wanted him to keep it secret for as long as he could. He cared deeply for Sookie and he hated himself for hurting her, but he was also not willing to meet his final death just yet. He tried to ignore the pain that plagued him. Thawing really did hurt as much as they said it would. They'd let him into the cabin after he'd stopped screaming, so he could thaw out faster. It had been cold in the cargo hold.

"She wants to avoid the magister, apparently," said Eric. "Although Sibylla suspects that there is a conspiracy." He told them about the money of unknown origins that some of the other sheriffs were receiving, and he told them about Russell Edgington's fifteen minutes in the limelight. And then he admitted that he'd slain Edgington's lover.

"That was...stupid," said Van Helsing. Now, Bill wasn't much for showing his feelings, but he couldn't control himself this time. His eyebrows flew towards his hairline as he stared at the man, and then flicked his eyes towards Eric. A _human_ had called Eric Northman stupid. Even more unnerving was the fact that Eric simply inclined his head, accepting the censure, albeit reluctantly.

"I know it was rash," he said. "But I needed vengeance."

"Don't we all?" said Van Helsing. "There is no point in regretting what was done. My main concern is what must be done now to ensure that we do not end up on a one way road trip to hell."

"I take it you have a plan then," said Eric. Why was the sheriff being so respectful to this human? Sure, he had somehow saved Sookie's life, but he was still just a mortal, wasn't he? Bill didn't understand. There was something different about the man, but if he had just bumped into him on the street, the vampire doubted that he would have recognized that difference. Then again, Eric was much older, and therefore he had more experience concerning otherworldly matters. Still, Bill could not, for the unlife of him, think of what it was that made this man worthy of Eric Northman's respect.

"Well...it isn't much of one," said Van Helsing. "But from what you're saying, I'll go out on a limb and say that your fellow sheriffs are being bribed by Edgington. The artificial energy vortex in Jackson and the activities of his wolves indicate that he is after domination of some sort. There's no better place to start than your neighbour's territory."

"So Edgington is after Louisiana," said Eric. "How does that help us?"

"Let me finish, Northman," said Van Helsing. "What we don't know is when he will strike; that is a disadvantage. What we do know, however, is that he hates your guts and he wants Miss Stackhouse for his own; she is really quite rare, on this plane at least, and Edgington is a collector of powerful artefacts. He wouldn't have been able to redirect so much power from the ley lines and other vortexes otherwise. However, the further he is from his vortex, the less powerful he becomes. He hasn't yet established his hold over the energies of other territories yet. Therefore, if we can lure him away from his power base and into a pre-planned ambush, we might have a chance of besting him."

"Only a chance?" said Logan.

"I don't want to get any foreign powers involved yet," said Van Helsing. "Trust me. European vampires make American ones seem cuddly bears."

As a very American vampire, Bill took great offense to that. He was not 'cuddly', even if he was trying to regain his humanity, although he wasn't sure how a bear could be cuddly. The last bear he'd seen had been a hungry Kodiak bear in Alaska. That had not been a pleasant encounter, either for him or the bear.

* * *

Sookie kept on stealing glances at Bill, even though she wasn't ready to talk to him yet. He was sipping from a bottle of room temperature True Blood. Ice crystals remained in his hair. His face was drawn from pain; she'd heard that vampires could survive being frozen, but thawing was a real pain. It had something to do with the body's liquid expanding as it froze, rupturing cells and vessels and membranes, and it took a while for any vampire to recover for such an ordeal. Despite what he'd done to her, first abandoning her and then almost killing her, she felt that he did not deserve such pain. What could she say? People always told her that she was too kind and too forgiving. They made her sound like a doormat. Still, she couldn't deny that she felt a little bit pathetic for feeling sorry for Bill. It was like Alcide and his insufferable ex, for whom he still had feelings. Perhaps they could both be pathetic together.

Speaking of Alcide, someone had found the werewolf some spare clothing. He was now wearing a navy blue tracksuit with 'X' emblems embroidered on it. The clothing was a little small for him and he'd left the top unzipped, giving her a delicious view of pectorals and abdominals that looked as if they had been sculpted from bronze, or better yet, chocolate. The blood loss —and her extraordinary out of body experience— had left her a little bit giddy and more than just a little nonsensical.

Plus, she was going home. Yes, she was going home as bait, but the archangel himself had promised her that he was going to do his 'damndest' best to keep her safe, and she trusted him. She also didn't know that angels were allowed to swear. One learned something new every day.

The jet landed on her front lawn less than an hour before dawn. She had never seen anything more beautiful than the shabby facade of her old farmhouse. The gutters needed cleaning and there was a carpet of red and yellow leaves on her porch, but this was the most welcoming sight she had seen in days.

Once inside, Logan made her stay on the couch whilst he bossed everyone else about, getting Pyro to light a fire before going off in search of food —that probably meant waking Sam up and telling him everything so that they could then go and raid Merlotte's for supplies. Knowing Sam, he'd probably be more than happy to help.

The two vampires went to ground. Bill had tried to talk to her before he died for the day, but she had ignored him. She wasn't ready to face him yet, and she was grateful when he left. The warmth of the fire, the smell of burning pine and the crackling of the flames lulled her to sleep.

* * *

No matter how tired she was, Marie just couldn't sleep. The sun was peeking through the gap between her curtains. Kitty and Jubilee were both asleep on the floor. She wished she could be like them, but her life had become so much more complicated ever since she'd come to Louisiana to 'clear her head'. She almost snorted. She hadn't done much head clearing at all. In fact, she'd muddled her mind even more during her few months here. Once upon a time, she'd thought that she'd never be able to touch another person again without hurting them. And then there had been the Cure, which hadn't been as much of a cure as it had been a temporary relief. Once more, she'd gone back to thinking that she'd be isolated from other people forever, since she hadn't wanted to risk her life with another round of cure shots. And then...Eric Northman had happened to her. She still wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

The burning sting in her shoulder had subsided into a dull itching ache that could easily be ignored, thanks to Eric's unconventional ministrations. None of the people who had witnessed the 'healing' had said anything about her and the vampire's odd behaviour. She was grateful for that, because she was still trying to figure out a way to break it to Remy that she'd kissed another guy.

Speaking of Remy, she felt that he needed to know as soon as possible. She needed to tell him and get that weight off her shoulders so she could concentrate on more important things, such as surviving, for instance. She threw off the covers and wrapped her fluffy dressing gown around her before swinging her bare feet over the side of the bed. She picked her way between the sleeping forms of her friends. No one, not even Mystique, stirred.

It was just her luck that Remy was awake and sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. He stood when he saw her come in and pulled out a chair for her.

"How are you doing, _cherie_?" he asked once she was seated. "You look awful." She surmised that she had dark shadows beneath her eyes, and her face was probably so pale that she could pass for a vampire. His liquid brown eyes were full of concern. The sincerity of his voice made her feel even guiltier and she averted her gaze. He took it to mean that she wasn't all right —she actually wasn't feeling all that well, but for entirely different reasons to the ones in his mind. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I kissed another man," she blurted out. Remy froze. "I'm really sorry." 'Sorry' sounded so inadequate, but it was the best she could do. It was pathetic.

"Who?" he asked. His voice was so cold that it could have frozen her blood.

"It doesn't matter," she said. Well, it did matter that _Eric_ had kissed her —he was her boss and a very powerful vampire, after all— but in this context, the identity of the man didn't actually matter, at least as far as Remy was concerned. The fault lay with her. She couldn't really blame anyone else for what _she_ had done. She believed in taking responsibility for her own actions.

"What matters is that I kissed another man and I cheated on you." She almost cringed; it sounded so awful, and the worst part was that although she was ashamed of what she'd done, she wouldn't hesitate to repeat that kiss a second time if given the chance.

"It was Northman, wasn't it?" asked Remy flatly. It wasn't so much a question as a statement, really.

"The identity of the man would not make an iota of difference," said Marie. "This is about us, and what I did." The Cajun remained silent and he was so still and stiff that he might as well have been a sculpture.

"I knew it was Northman," said Remy. "I'm not even surprised. We've been on two dates, and he's ruined them both."

"That's not fair, Remy," said Marie. "The first time it was because my cousin got attacked. The second time was because my friend was being tortured. It had nothing to do with Eric."

"Don't deny it, _cherie_," said Remy. "You are attracted to the vampire. There's something between the two of you that doesn't exist between the two of us."

"So that's the end of us, then, is it?" said Marie. "I'd thought you wouldn't be the type of man to give up so easily."

"What's the point? We'd both be wasting time, and we both know it. He'll always come between us. For the record, I don't ever think there was an 'us', so to speak. You shouldn't dwell on it too much. It wasn't as if we got very far." He gave her a sad smile that almost made her burst into tears. Anger would have been preferable to this stoic acceptance. If he had yelled at her or insulted her, she would have felt justified and become angry in turn. However, he was being so good about this that she only felt worse about herself.

"Hey, don't start crying, all right?" said the Cajun. "You're a good girl, _cherie_; you're very confused and you don't know what's best for you or even what you want, but you have a good heart. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"You don't have to worry about me," said Marie, forcing herself to give him a wobbly smile. "You don't have to be so nice either. I hurt you. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"It's not as if I haven't made my share of mistakes," said Remy. "Take care, _cherie_. You're so very young and innocent, and you live in a dangerous world." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and then rose from his seat, taking his now cold mug of coffee with him. She heard the front door open and shut, and she was alone in the kitchen. She let the tears fall then, and mopped them up with a few paper towels. Then she dug around in the freezer for the carton of cookie dough ice cream that she knew was in there. She ate half the carton, put it back, and then went straight upstairs, feeling strangely at peace with herself.

Sleep came soon after that.

* * *

By the time Sookie woke up, pale rays of fall sunshine were shining through her window, and she was feeling much better, and very hungry. Someone had carried her upstairs to her room and put her in her pajamas. She could only hope it was a woman who'd done that. She threw on her thin robe before heading downstairs. She could smell the scent of fried bacon on the air already. As she passed by Marie's room, she noticed that the door was closed. Her cousin must still be asleep. The poor thing deserved her rest, after those traumatic few days. The telepath realized, with a bit of regret, that she hadn't really thought about her cousin's welfare at all; she'd been so occupied with her own concerns that she hadn't had time for anyone else. It had been _Eric_ who'd helped Marie get out of that mansion. That just wasn't right, and Sookie promised herself that she was going to make it up to her once this was all over.

She heard their voices and their thoughts before she even saw them. The Cajun, in particular, was broadcasting very loudly today. He was thinking about why he was helping the vampires when he felt he didn't owe them anything. He fell silent as he decided that he was doing this to help Sookie, not Eric or Pam or Bill. The others were mostly thinking about the possible battle ahead and mentally preparing themselves for a fight. From what she could glean from Logan without concentrating so hard that he could feel her, he was thinking about stakes and pancakes at the same time.

Magneto's thoughts were silent to her, as he was wearing his helmet again. So was Charles' for that matter, and of course, Gabriel. "Miss Stackhouse," said the angel when he saw her coming down the stairs. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you, Mr. Van Helsing," she replied. "Is there any breakfast?"

"Of course," said the angel. "Your friend Sam brought enough over to feed an army."

"I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing, at the moment," came Sam's voice from the kitchen. Moments later, he emerged. Sookie threw her arms around him without a word. She was so happy to see him. He hugged her back.

"I'm so glad you're in one piece, Sook," he murmured when he released her. "Logan and Van Helsing told me what's going on. I'm here to help."

"Oh, Sam," said Sookie. "I don't want to drag you into my trouble."

"Don't be stupid, Sookie," said Sam. "You're my friend, and I'm not going to sit back and relax while there's a psychotic sorcerer vampire king comin' after you, you hear me?" He shook his head. "You really should keep away from those bloodsuckers. They're not good for your health."

"I know, Sam," said Sookie quietly. "But I think they'll just find me anyway. I'm in too deep now."

"You can always get out of it if you really wanted to," Sam insisted. "Anyway, come and have some breakfast. You look a bit pale." He made her sit down at the kitchen table before bringing her a mountain of pancakes with syrup and butter and a cup of much needed steaming black coffee. She wolfed it all down as she listened to the war preparations.

There was another knock on the door, causing a lull in the activity. Sookie got up to answer it, but Sam stopped her. It was Van Helsing who opened the door. The angel did not say anything to the newcomer, but he did stand aside to let her pass.

Standing in Sookie's doorway was the most beautiful woman to ever grace Bon Temps with her presence. She looked like she ought to be on the cover of a fashion magazine instead of standing on the porch of an old farmhouse, with her five inch silver-coated stiletto heels and tailored silk trousers. They said that fabulous clothing was the armour of the modern Amazon. If that was the case, then this woman was dressed for war. It was a far cry from what she'd been wearing the last time the telepath had seen her.

"Hello, Sookie," said Claudine.


	30. Bloodline and Birthright

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 30: Bloodline and Birthright**

"We need to talk," said Claudine. "Alone."

"We'll go upstairs, if that's all right," said Van Helsing. Sookie could only nod; her mouth was still filled with half-masticated pancake. The telepath rose from her seat. Her friends could offer her no advice, for they were as lost as she was. Only the angel and the stranger seemed to know what was going on. Van Helsing gave her a small reassuring smile as she passed him. Somehow, although she was confused, she wasn't frightened. Perhaps knowing that she had an archangel watching her back made all the difference.

Sookie quickly attempted to straighten her sheets, embarrassed that her visitors got to see her bedroom in such a messy state. She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Allow me," said Claudine. She snapped her fingers. The wrinkles in the fabric smoothed out on their own and the pillows rearranged themselves. It was...

"Magic," said the woman, finishing her thoughts for her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her, indicating that Sookie should sit down too. Van Helsing leaned against the frame of the door and hooked his thumbs in his belt in the most un-angelic manner. "Yes, there is such a thing as magic, but I think you already know that, Sookie."

"Who are you?" said Sookie. "What are you?"

"I'm your faerie godmother," said Claudine.

By the time Claudine was finished with her narrative, Sookie was feeling lightheaded and slightly nauseous. Everything in her world, everything she'd ever known, had pretty much been a lie. She was not human. She was, in all likelihood, a mutant with a touch of faerie, and faerie royalty to boot. Her Gran had had an affair with the half-faerie son of a faerie prince. In essence, she was as much a part of the supernatural world as the vampires were. Speaking of vampires, faerie blood was to them what V was to humans. The mere scent of faerie could make them all as frenzied as cats on catnip —she almost sniggered at the image of Eric and Bill batting and pouncing on a bunch of catnip— but fortunately, Claudine had borrowed a potion that could mask her scent.

She could see why her Gran had kept this from her. Gran had wanted to give her a normal life; a peaceful life. In the end, she hadn't succeeded, but she'd tried the best she could have. Sookie could never blame her for that. From what Claudine had told her, the world of faeries was not all sunshine and honeysuckle. The faeries of popular culture were still as much a myth as they had ever been. Real faeries were dark, primal, powerful, and mired so deeply in politics that none of them could ever see a way out of it. That dream she'd had; that had been an illusion to lure into that world, for whatever reason this Niall Brigant had. Yes, she could now put a name to her prince of a great-grandfather, who had not seen fit to care about her life until her supernatural abilities had manifested themselves.

"So he's not interested in Jason at all?" said Sookie. She hoped against hope that she'd understood her godmother wrong, although Claudine had put it in pretty plain language. "He's family too, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's family," said Claudine. "But he shows no potential." Sookie was offended on her brother's behalf. Jason might not know what the hell he's thinking ninety-nine percent of the time, and he might make Donald Duck look like Einstein, but love was not supposed to be conditional. Jason was as much a part of this fucked up family as she was, although it might be better for him if he never got involved with the supernatural world. In fact, her great-grandfather's dismissal of Jason made her question whether he was interested in her or her powers.

"Tell me about...my people," said Sookie awkwardly.

"There's so much to tell that I wouldn't be able to fit it into a month, let alone what little time we have now," said Claudine. "For the moment, this will be enough. I'm not here to talk family business; I'm here to help you."

* * *

Marie zipped up her uniform and made sure that her ponytail was firmly in place. It wouldn't do to get hair in one's face during a fight. She was as ready as she could ever be; considering it was five thirty and completely dark already, that was a good thing. What she wasn't ready for was literally walking right into Eric when she opened the door and charged out the room without looking first. He reached out and steadied her as she staggered backwards. It had been like walking into a brick wall; a very nice smelling brick wall dressed in— "You're wearing one of the uniforms," she blurted out in surprise. It must have been one of Logan's spare uniforms, because Eric actually fit in it. The skin-tight material conformed to the lines of his muscles...amongst other things. Against her wishes, she felt her body temperature rise and decided to keep her eyes focused on the vampire's face. That was the safest place to look, at present.

"Do you like what you see, Miss D'Ancanto?" asked the vampire with a smirk. It was good to know that impending death and destruction had not done away with his twisted sense of humour entirely. Then again, she supposed he thought they had a chance of winning, despite the odds being stacked against them. Marie swallowed. Yes, she _did_ like what she saw. She was making an effort not to see too much. Apocalypse was coming in an hour and a half; now was not the time to be ogling one's boss, even if his borrowed trousers were showing off his assets in an impressive manner. "I couldn't see the queen in blood-drenched clothing," Eric continued when Marie found herself incapable of answering his simple question. He probably knew what she was feeling, anyway. "Your friend very kindly loaned me his spare uniform."

"If you wear that to Fangtasia, the line outside will stretch all the way to New Orleans," said Marie at last. She was surprised that she managed to say such a coherent long sentence, given the fact that her mind was nowhere near as coherent.

"I'll take that into consideration if I survive this," said Eric. He said nothing more, but they both knew there was a chance he would not. She didn't know how anyone could be as calm as him in this situation. Then again, this could have been the three hundredth time Eric had looked the Grim Reaper in the eye and flipped him the bird. It didn't do anything to make Marie feel better. She realized that she _would_ be upset if he did go and get himself killed. She wasn't sure what they were —hell, that nice clean professional relationship didn't exist anymore after that kiss, at least not for her— but she did care about what happened to him.

"You will," she said. "You're Eric Northman. You defy the laws of science and gravity..." Her voice trailed off as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down towards her.

"For luck," he whispered, and then his mouth was upon hers, more insistent than that first time. The potential fight and the accompanying adrenaline surge made her toss all common sense and coherent thought out the window. She felt his lust, his excitement, his trepidation, all mingled together. And behind all of that, she could sense a gentler emotion; something like fondness, and concern. She reached up and entangled her gloved fingers in that golden mane as leaned into him and deepened the kiss. His pleasure at her response flowed through to her. He could probably feel her pleasure as well, both from the skin contact and from the blood. His large hand cradled the back of her head, and his other hand was at the small of her back, although it threatened to stray further south. She'd never felt so aware of her body before, and its ability to feel.

Somehow, she managed to pull back and when he leaned in for more and she placed a hand against his chest to keep him away. "Not now," she said, albeit breathlessly. "This isn't a good time to get distracted."

"You've already distracted me," said Eric. "You have to finish what you started, my little daywalker."

"If you want more, come back later in one piece," said Marie, feeling terribly bold. "Then we can talk." She tore her gaze away from his face and made for the door without glancing backwards. If she had, she might just have given into temptation.

* * *

She had that 'just kissed' look on her face, for the colour was high in her cheeks and her lips were swollen. That, and she seemed a little dazed. Whoever it was, he must have been good. In fact, Marie had been so affected that her mental broadcasts were loud, with crystal clear images in colour. It was all Sookie could do to suppress her shock and alarm. Her cousin had been playing tongue wrestle with _Eric_? It was the blood. It had to be. She was going to have a nice long talk with Marie after this was all over. Eric Northman was not appropriate boyfriend material, as far as Sookie was concerned, and Marie was too young to know what was good for her.

The telepath glanced at the vampire in question. He had taken charge; there was no denying the fact that he was a leader, an alpha male. Even Gabriel was deferring to him at this point in time, although it wasn't really that surprising, seeing as the angel was passing himself off as a mere human. And Eric was very eye-catching in that tight uniform.

Only a few people were to stay behind to guard Sookie. The telepath herself was under strict orders to stay inside unless the house was on fire and she faced imminent death. Her guards consisted of Marie —Sookie suspected that this was for her cousin's protection more than hers, and this was just an excuse for both Logan and Eric, but Logan in particular, to keep her away from the action. Remy LeBeau was another of her guards, along with Alcide, Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee, Claudine and surprisingly, Mystique. They all thought that if anything happened, it would be great for Sookie to have a decoy, like Queen Amidala in the _Star Wars _films.

Bill had remained silent throughout the entire war council, if it could be called that. He seemed to be deep in thought, with his brow furrowed and his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were fixed on his loafers. Yes, loafers. Whilst everyone else was in some sort of fighting uniform —even usually nude Mystique had, out of respect for Sookie's sensibilities, put on one of those skin-tight X-men uniforms— Bill was wearing his usual attire of a polo shirt and ironed chinos with brown leather lace-up dress shoes. For the unknowing observer, he looked as if he wasn't even part of the group.

* * *

The Queen's cavalcade pulled up Bill's gravel driveway exactly on time. Queens were never too late or too early; they arrived exactly when they meant to. Sophie-Ann stepped out, dressed in her usual cream silk pantsuit. Lengths of pearls —white, pink and black— were draped about her neck. She was as regal and spoilt as she had ever been, and she looked pissed.

Bill was waiting at the door, ready to greet her. She only gave him a curt nod to acknowledge his existence before speeding through the doorway and into the dining room, where Eric and his retinue were waiting. Eric stood and bowed when he saw her, although it was such a brief bow that it was hardly acceptable. He and Bill were the only ones who observed this formality. The mutants either didn't know, or didn't care. The archangel, of course, was not going to bow to anyone. Eric wouldn't have expected him to.

"I see you brought your pets," said Sophie-Ann with disdain as Eric straightened from his short bow.

"They our allies, Your Majesty," said Eric steadily, "and in such dire circumstances as the one you are in now, you need all the allies you can have."

"I don't need outside help," said Sophie-Ann. "This is a matter of Louisiana's internal affairs." She took her seat at the head of Bill's long antique dining table. Andre stood behind her, backing his queen. Eric considered taking the seat at the other end of the table, just to show how undaunted he was by the queen's presence, but he figured that it would be too unsubtle. Instead, he picked a seat close to her and sat before she told him that he could.

"Before we get on to business," Sophie-Ann began, "there is a matter that I must attend to. Mr. Compton. Have you procured what I asked for?"

"Your Majesty..." Bill said. "I..."

"You failed, didn't you?" said Sophie-Ann with a dramatic sigh. "Well, where is she now?"

"Across the cemetery," whispered Bill. Suddenly, the encrypted files on Bill's floppy disks all made sense. He'd been researching Sookie's background because she'd been an assignment. _That_ was why he hadn't protested when the Queen had tried to claim the telepath in New Orleans.

"Andre," said Sophie-Ann. "I think we had better change our venue. I have a telepath to claim."

"Oh no, you don't," snarled Howlett. He was poised to attack, but then his ears twitched. Eric knew what it meant, for he could also hear what had distracted the nephilim. In fact, all the vampires were distracted now.

Howling.

* * *

When Sookie 'saw' the mass of snarling red mental signatures, she knew that the Mississippi werewolves had come for her. She quickly shouted out a warning to the others and prayed that Bill and Logan would notice that something was going on at the Stackhouse residence and come back to help, if they weren't preoccupied, that was.

She felt better when a blast of cold air ripped through the room as Bobby sealed the windows and doors with ice. It ought to keep the werewolves out for a while until reinforcements came. However, what she wasn't prepared for was for the ice to melt almost as soon as it formed. Nor was she prepared for the growing vibration that she could feel in her bones, an unnatural hum that made her lightheaded and created a type of heat in the core of her body that she had never felt before.

"Magic," whispered Claudine. The faerie's wide eyes were fixed on the door; the shaking, splintering door. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the werewolves broke down the door and poured in, unstoppable, uncontainable. Their fur was slick with moisture from the melted ice. Everyone burst into action. Claudine blasted two werewolves out the door in quick succession, sending them flying into their fellow V-wolves. Alcide transformed on the spot into a beautiful silver wolf and threw himself into the melee. Gunshots sounded as Marie fired off a round of shots, each hitting a wolf, although that was not surprising, considering how many there were crammed into one rather small living room. Wolves turned back into humans as they were thrown through the air by one Remy LeBeau, and Mystique was holding her own against no less than three wolves. She and the Cajun worked together in deadly harmony, as if they were performing a choreographed dance.

One of the V-wolves transformed back into a human voluntarily. "Come on in!" he shouted.

All of them were thrown backwards by an unknown force as Russell Edgington made his entry, floating through the broken door in an almost god-like manner. He was surrounded by an invisible energy that kept anything from touching him. "Miss Stackhouse," he said as his feet touched the floor. "It was very rude of you to leave without telling your host. Not good southern manners at all."

Sookie backed away until she was pressed up against the wall. She couldn't run. He would catch her, without doubt. The humming in her bones grew louder and stronger, and then she heard another note, or rather, she felt it. It countered the original note and clashed with its vibrations, cancelling them out or, at least, weakening them.

Edgington turned away from Sookie. Claudine's hands were glowing, for _she_ was the source of that counter note. The vampire king's fangs ran down as he took in the sight of the faerie. "Back away, vampire," said Claudine. She held her hands in front of her in a defensive stance. "You don't want a war."

"I'm not afraid of a war, faerie," he said as he advanced on her with one hand outstretched, the fingers curled in like the talons of a predatory bird. "I'll always win." Claudine was trying her best to keep him away —Sookie could feel her 'note' humming in the air— but the vampire king was too strong. His note grew stronger as he drew closer to the faerie, and the light in Claudine's hands was dimming.

Something burst in through the broken front door, or rather, someone. "Sookie!" shouted Bill as he unwittingly interrupted a potentially disastrous situation. It was probably not the smartest move on his part, but his timing could not have been better. One, it served to distract Russell Edgington. Two, it broke everyone out of their fear-induced stupor. And three, Eric was on his tail —that wasn't actually related to Bill's timing, but the Viking's arrival only served to enhance the impact of Bill's interruption.

"You!" snarled Russell Edgington. At the same time, Marie found her voice.

"Out!" she screeched. It was the least wordy way to rescind a vampire's invitation, and it was so informal that Sookie didn't know if it would work, but apparently, it was the thought behind the command that mattered. The vampires didn't even have time to be surprised as they all zoomed towards the door, crashing into one another as they did. They flew backwards and landed on Sookie's lawn; if this hadn't been such a dire situation, it would have been comical to see three vampires, two of high rank and one Civil War veteran, trying to disentangle themselves from one another. As it was, it only elicited a scream from the telepath.

With no thought for her own safety, Sookie ran to the door; it occurred to her that out of all three vampires, Bill was the weakest. He might have done some things of debatable morality and legality, but deep down, she still loved him. She still cared. Something blocked her path; something warm and muscular and hairy and naked. "Sookie, no," said Alcide in a voice that sounded almost like a growl. She made to protest, but she could see his point. At least no vampire could get her inside the house. The telepath stood on tiptoes to try and see past the werewolf's broad shoulders.

All three ejected vampires had gotten back to their feet. Eric and Russell looked as if they were about to murder one another, for their hands were at one another's throats, and Bill seemed uncertain as to what side he ought to take, or whether he ought to take a side at all. Eric was bigger, but he was two thousand years younger, and he also wasn't a sorcerer, so Sookie wasn't sure he'd survive the encounter, not that she was really thinking about him right now.

By then, the entire Louisiana delegation had arrived, their original purpose of being in Bon Temps forgotten. Their arrival did two things. Firstly, Russell reconsidered starting a killing spree. The presence of the mutants seemed to have made him a little less certain of his own abilities; he knew all about magic and faeries, werewolves and vampires, but mutants —and their unique genetics— were unchartered territory for him. He lowered his hand from Eric's neck, and Eric did the same. The Viking took a step backwards —not a big enough step to indicate defeat or surrender, but enough so that the Queen of Louisiana was at the forefront of the delegation. They were all positioning themselves for battle, Sookie realized. The pawns, the queens, the bishops, the knights; they were all lining up. The only thing that was off about this chess game was that there were three sides, instead of two. In fact, it was rather more like Chinese Checkers, only who the hell compared a battle of vampires, werewolves and mutants to Chinese Checkers?

The three sides faced one another; all three were evenly matched, it seemed, at least upon first glance. Edgington had his powers, but he didn't have the numbers, and werewolves were weaker than vampires, even ones that were hyped up on V. Louisiana had the numbers, but no one wanted to come up against the sorcerer king. And then there were the mutants —and Eric and Bill, she supposed— who were outnumbered by both sides, but they did have powers that most vampires couldn't even imagine. No one, except for the psychopathic Sabretooth, wanted a fight. No one wanted to back down either. They stood in tense silence, until Sophie-Ann shattered it.

Surprisingly, she didn't address the invading forces, nor did she address her rebellious sheriff and his mutant allies. Instead, she turned to Sookie, once again wearing a mask of utmost cordiality. Somehow, her warm smile, and the sight of her brilliant straight white teeth, put Sookie even more on the edge. "Sookie, my dear," she said. "May I call you Sookie?" There, the queen paused to let Sookie answer. When the telepath remained quiet, she continued. "I've come to offer you the protection of the Crown of Louisiana."

"Bullshit," said Russell. "My darling Sophie-Ann, you seriously don't believe that anyone is convinced by your little act, do you? You only want the faerie-hybrid's blood. Why, you even sent someone to seduce her, and it would have worked, if Mr. Compton's maker hadn't made a timely appearance."

Sent someone to seduce her? Bill? Sookie's eyes fell on the vampire in question. Bill looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"I wanted her to have someone familiar to keep her company after she relocated to New Orleans," said Sophie-Ann. "William was sent to be her protector."

"Her protector? He gave her his blood after he watched as two psychopaths beat her half to death so he could bind her to him," said Russell with a disdainful laugh. Bill blanched, and even Sophie-Ann looked uncomfortable. "Oh yes, Mr. Compton was an obedient child in the end; he told Lorena everything, and she, out of gratitude for my assistance in cleaning up one of her messes, told _me_ everything."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sookie had already known that her feeling for Bill had something to do with the blood she'd ingested, but never had she thought that Bill had actually stood by and _let_ the Rattrays nearly kill her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. Blood rushed to her head. She could hear it roaring in her ears. Part of her mind was screaming. She wanted to scream too, only her voice seemed to have disappeared. A haze clouded her vision. She was barely aware of Russell offering her _his_ protection, saying that understood and respected her abilities.

'_Sookie,'_ said a voice inside her mind. It was the only voice that could cut through her shock. Phoenix! _'They betrayed you. They will always betray you. You are powerful. They want to use that power. They want to use you, to control you.'_

'_I'm not going to let them do that!'_ Sookie protested to the beautiful apparition.

'_Of course you're not,' _said Phoenix. _'They should be kneeling at your feet, worshipping you and trying to earn your favour, all of them. You are a goddess amongst insects. Feel the power.'_

The humming grew again. This time, it was a different note —no, there was a melody, and an accompaniment. It was terrible and discordant, and yet beautiful at the same time. Sookie felt warmth flowing through her veins, as if her blood had turned into liquid fire. It was glorious. The energy made her strong, it made her whole. Never in her life had she been so sure of herself and of her abilities. '_Feel it. Feel it!' _Phoenix commanded, only Sookie found that Phoenix now had her face, only it wasn't really Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid of Bon Temps, whom she was seeing.

'_Embrace it,'_ said Phoenix. _'It's your birthright, Sookie. It's you.' _The haze cleared, and although it was dark, the colours of everything had never been brighter. There was fear, but it was not hers. Why should she be afraid of anyone? Everyone should be afraid of her.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about making you wait so long! I was having a bit of trouble writing this chapter, like figuring out the technicalities. I had so many scenarios in my mind, but I couldn't pick one, and then a sudden project came up at work and distracted me. Anyway, can anyone guess what's happening with Sookie?


	31. Angels and Demons

**Chapter 31: Angels and Demons**

Sookie transformed before his very eyes. She seemed to grow, not in stature, but in some other way. Her body remained the same, but there was something about her that Eric couldn't place. This simply wasn't the Sookie Stackhouse he knew and had grown accustomed to; this was the Sookie who'd thrown him against a wall without so much as lifting a finger, not the Sookie who'd sashayed into Fangtasia wearing a white dress with cherry print. If he'd met _this_ woman that night...Thor's hammer, he might have entertained the thought of going back to the Old World to seek help from the Ancients.

The telepath levitated into the air. She seemed to be on fire from within. Her eyes resembled glowing orbs of flame that could blast through the greatest of mountains. Roaring winds surrounded her, whipping her hair —which resembled flames— about her head. Everything was bathed in golden light; an unhealthy golden light.

Trees were pulled out by their roots. The old farmhouse shook and splintered as it was lifted clean off its foundation. The boards of the porch broke away to become hundreds of impromptu stakes. This situation was becoming increasingly unsavoury. He hadn't prepared for this. Granted, he hadn't prepared for Russell Edgington's arrival either, but he'd expected the King of Mississippi to come sometime. He hadn't expected Sookie to become...whatever she was right now.

He pressed his body close to the ground to try his best to avoid the unnatural winds that were swirling around Sookie. It tore trees out of the ground and caused cars to orbit in the air around the telepath. Anything that got caught by the wind was being lifted up into the air and...what on earth? Out of habit —an old habit which he'd thought had died a long time ago— he sent up a quick prayer to Thor, asking for protection. Werewolves were turning back into human as they hung in mid-air. Slowly, their flesh was peeled from their bones, starting from the gum line. They lived for a short while, even though their beating hearts could be seen through their ribcages and their viscera was falling out like glistening purple coils of steaming rope. There was something in the air keeping them alive against the laws of science. Their screams were terrible, and even the sound of the wind could not drown them out.

Vampires who had been caught in the storm weren't faring much better. Invisible flames ate at their bodies, turning them into ash slowly and painfully. He was unable to contemplate how this could be going on, how so much power could have lain dormant in a frail human for so long. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

What had he done? He hardly dared to believe what he was seeing. He wished that this was just a nightmare; the result of an overactive imagination. Only, Bill Compton had never been known for his imagination and vampires didn't dream.

One would have thought that vampires would not be able to feel sickened by anything, but right now, he had a feeling that was as close to nausea as any vampire could ever get. This was all his fault. His betrayal had forced his sweet Sookie over the edge. He didn't recognize this woman, this...thing. "Sookie..." he said. His voice cracked. "Sookie!"

If she heard him, she showed no indication of it. God, she was so beautiful and so unreachable. Still, he owed it to _his_ Sookie to try. Pressing his body close to the ground, he began to crawl towards her, fighting against the buffeting winds. Perhaps if he could get to her, if he could let her know how he truly felt about her, how he was willing to die for her, then perhaps...

Perhaps what? He knew exactly what he'd done. Somehow, his betrayal had unleashed a power beyond any of their control. Only divine intervention could help them now, and Bill had lost faith in God long ago.

* * *

fThe threads of light came out from her fingertips, forming an intricate lattice of energy that was fas beautiful as it was deadly, like a veil of killer lace. She wasn't the only one who was weaving magic; Russell Edgington and Claudine were both trying to do the same. Claudine's lattice was simple, like a net, whilst Russell's lattice of energy resembled Jason's first and only attempt at needlepoint, crude and disordered. They were trying to stop her, but they couldn't. She was unstoppable, invincible, and free. The music she was making drowned out almost every other noise. The shouts and screams of her victims were no more than enhancements to this symphony she was creating. She threw back one of Russell's crude threads of energy at him. The force of the impact made him zoom backwards. She hated him; the hate was so strong that it made her blood roar in her head and her eyes heat up. There was a buzz in her body, as if her blood had become electrified? Who knew? Perhaps it had. One of the trees behind Russell uprooted itself. The trunk splintered, becoming thousands of impromptu stakes, still wet with sap.

* * *

Marie could not believe that this was her cousin. This wasn't the Sookie who'd toted trays of beer and delivered chicken baskets and fries. This wasn't the Sookie who'd laughed with her and comforted her and told her off for surfing the net for too long. She didn't know this woman. The girl clung onto the doorframe of the house, using the walls for protection against the rest of the flying debris. From her vantage point, she could see everything, like a circular panning shot. She was, after all, orbiting the telepath. Then the house stopped orbiting her, just as everything else did. The debris was still floating in midair, and there were vampires stuck in the middle of disintegrating.

Sookie seemed to be in the middle of a silent duel with Russell Edgington. They were both floating in mid-air, with unnatural winds whipping their clothes about. Sookie's lips quirked up in a malicious smile and all of a sudden, Russell flew backwards and into an arrangement of floating stakes made out of green wood. The vampire king didn't even have the time to scream before he liquefied and exploded in a burst of mucus-y blood.

As the remnants of Russell Edgington dripped to the ground, Sookie slowly descended. Her bare feet touched down on the glass-strewn lawn. She stepped over the bones of the dead werewolves and towards the remaining vampires, who looked as if they wanted to run, but only their pride made them hold their ground. Her glow had not diminished. If anything, it had grown stronger.

"I could kill you all," she said, as if they didn't know that already. On cue, all the debris —including the newly-made stakes, dropped, sending vampires, mutants, and the remaining werewolves scrambling for cover. Marie screamed as the house dropped along with it. The rough landing drove the breath from her lungs and for a moment, she saw static in her vision. People often talked about stars in their eyes; even the cartoons showed stars. However, the reality was not nearly as romantic. Sookie continued to speak, oblivious to the fact that her beloved house was in shambles and that the people she loved were in danger. "In fact, I believe I shall."

"Phoenix, cease and desist," said Van Helsing suddenly, stepping to the fore of the group. Marie gingerly pushed herself up so that she could get a better look at what was going on. Sookie's back was to her, so there was a smaller chance of her attracting the telepath's attention. It suddenly dawned on her that Van Helsing had called Sookie 'Phoenix'. Hell, it couldn't be...

"Who's going to make me?" asked Sookie. "You? Oh, Gabriel. I do like it when you're so determined." Well, that did _not_ sound a bit like Sookie. Her soft southern accent was gone, replaced by one that sounded both Asian and European at the same time. Her voice was lower-pitched, sultrier, more seductive, and more dangerous, further confirming the fact that whoever this was, it wasn't Sookie Stackhouse. "You couldn't stop me last time. What makes you think anything has changed?"

Van Helsing ignored her taunts. "Sookie," he said quietly. "This is not you. You are strong. You don't want this."

"Who are you to tell someone what they do or do not want?" demanded Phoenix-Sookie. She lifted her hands again. The glow around her grew brighter and brighter. The grass at her feet started smouldering and then it caught fire. The flames spread in every direction. Marie caught sight of Pyro desperately trying to take control of the flames, but Phoenix-Sookie was too strong for him, and he couldn't do a thing.

"Sookie!" shouted Van Helsing. He started talking in a beautiful and completely foreign language, unlike anything Marie had ever heard before, not that she'd heard every language in the world. The words almost felt like a symphony; one of those really magnificent ones that conjured up scenes of great beauty. It was the sound of rock cracking and lava spilling out across the ocean floor. It was the sound of waves splashing against newly formed land. It was the sound of the earliest storms as they watered a barren earth. The man himself seemed to grow in stature and in power. No longer did he look human; although he kept his human form, he was ethereal, basked in a gentle white light that countered Phoenix-Sookie's unnatural glow. Phoenix-Sookie seethed and raged, but she was losing her strength. Inside, Sookie was fighting her.

Van Helsing continued to speak, lending the telepath his strength. A battle cry erupted from Sookie's throat. At once, the orange light faded away, as if it had never existed. The flames died down immediately even though no one had made any move to put it out. In the middle of the bloodied lawn stood Sookie, telepathic barmaid of Bon Temps. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing and gasping for breath.

His task completed, Van Helsing staggered backwards, his human strength spent. His light was also gone, although the feeling of something incredible still lingered, as if they had just glimpsed the beginning of time. Logan caught him before he fell.

Marie ran to her cousin, not caring if there was still a battle to be fought. She climbed over the half-disintegrated vampires and the uprooted trees, taking care to side-step any mounds of flesh and fur, still in the middle of transitioning. She could be sick later. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around her cousin —careful not to make any skin contact, of course— and rubbed her back as the other woman sobbed. Bill was standing nearby, mostly unscathed. There was a cut on his forehead but that was healing quickly. He looked as if he wanted to step towards Sookie, but one look from Marie made him stay where he was. He was the last person that Sookie needed to see right now. Hell, he could go to New Zealand and he'd still be too close for Sookie's well-being.

"Come on," said Marie as she helped Sookie to her feet. Sookie's sobs had turned into hiccups by now. Shakily, the two of them rose. If this had been one of those ideal scenarios, Marie would have just let Sookie stay where she was for a while. However, this was not an ideal situation. There were still two parties of vampires, and one of them wanted to take Sookie for their own. Russell Edgington might be gone, but _his_ vampires were still here, although they seemed confused as to what they ought to do next. She figured that they were not the biggest threat at present.

She ushered Sookie back into the ranks of the mutants. They parted to let the two girls through and then quickly closed up their ranks again, forming a protective ring around them. She wondered why. Not. It was obvious that the Queen still wanted Sookie, and now with all her losses, she was all the more determined to get the telepath. She wanted to make her losses mean something. "Hand over the girl, Northman," Sophie-Ann commanded.

"What if I don't?" asked Eric. Marie could only see his broad back and the back of his golden head, but she had no doubt that his blue eyes were as hard and cold as his voice.

"If you don't, I will end you, and anyone who stands in my way, and take her regardless," said Sophie-Ann. "Are you going to lay down your life for a human, Northman?"

There was a collective silence. They all knew that Eric was an opportunistic survivalist. He wouldn't have survived for so long if he hadn't been one. Still, given the choice between almost certain death and probable death if he _did_ hand over Sookie, which one would he pick? "Will you spare my people if I do hand her over?" he asked.

"Yes," said Sophie-Ann impatiently. "Although I might reconsider if you take too long to decide. Well? What is your answer?"

"How about...no," said Eric.

* * *

No. Eric had said no to handing her over. Sookie wondered whether vampires could alter their personalities by hitting their heads too hard, the way humans could if they sustained serious head injuries. She wasn't the only one who was surprised.

"No?" echoed Sophie-Ann.

"No," Eric repeated again. "Sookie is in my area, and you are overstepping the boundaries of your jurisdiction if you think you can take her without my consent, and I do not give consent."

"I am your queen," hissed Sophie-Ann.

"That you are, and although I acknowledge that I owe you fealty, do not forget it was my support that helped you to ascend the throne in the first place," said Eric. "Without the agreement of all the sheriffs, you would not have been crowned. Perhaps you have forgotten that little detail?"

"What the North Man says is true," said another of the sheriffs. Now _that_ startled the telepath even more than Eric's refusal to hand her over and save his own skin, although in retrospect, she realized if he _had _handed her over, he would have had to face the wrath of one very angry Wolverine. That, and he _was_ trying to get into her cousin's pants.

From her position in the centre of the group, Sookie just managed to see Eric dip his golden head slightly in acknowledgement of the other sheriff's apparent support. "You may be queen, Your Majesty, but you forget that you are first among equals, and you have proven yourself unfit to rule."

Oh, shit. Sookie wasn't well-versed in political terms, but she believed Eric was trying to pull of what was known as a 'coup d'état'. This could all end very badly. She crossed herself and muttered a quick prayer. There was an archangel on their side, so it would be reasonable to assume that God was also on their side, right?

* * *

No movement escaped Eric's keen eyes; his predator's eyes. Having lived for so long, he was perfectly able to read body language, vampire or otherwise. He saw doubt amongst the sheriffs. Rumours about Sophie-Ann's financial instability had abounded, but no one had actually been able to confirm it, except for him. If only her sheriffs knew that she'd been selling her own blood to try and pay her taxes. Such humiliation was enough to quell any residual support for her, and he knew that some of the sheriffs' loyalty was already wavering. He caught the eye of Paul Bettany, the Sheriff of Area Eleven. Well, that was definitely one sheriff Sophie-Ann could _not _count on, along with his accomplices, the sheriffs of areas Two and Six. Surely there were others who were also itching for personal advancement at her expense. They wouldn't fight her outright, but they wouldn't support her if she tried to attack him either. No, if they knew what was good for them, they would wait out the battle and then take out the wounded victor.

"Are you challenging me?" demanded Sophie-Ann. She was ready for battle. Hell, she'd probably come to Bon Temps expecting a battle, only not a large one. She'd seriously miscalculated.

Eric didn't bother to answer. Instead, he raised his —borrowed— longsword. He would have much preferred a broadsword, but apparently, archangels didn't. That was the only signal that anyone needed. He leapt for the queen. Having just about read every war book under the stars, he was very familiar with the 'Thirty Six Strategies', one of which stated that in order to capture the thieves, one must first capture their chief. He ignored everyone else —Andre was otherwise preoccupied with a Sabretooth who was hyped up on vampire blood— and leapt straight for Sophie-Ann. He didn't mean to kill her. Oh no. He had better plans than that.

One of Sophie-Ann's guards, the dumb brute from prehistoric Scotland, jumped in front of his queen. Eric's blade met his. He was even bigger than the Viking, but Eric had speed and intelligence on his side. He slid his blade down the edge of his enemy's sword and then just as it reached the guard of the hilt, he gave his sword a flick, severing the tendons in the Pict's wrist, causing him to lose control of his hand, if only just for a minute. The Pict's giant iron blade dropped from his hand as his fingers lost their strength. He roared in anger and tried to grab Eric with his other giant paw, but the Viking was too nimble. He dropped and rolled, and then came to his feet right behind the Pict before the brute even had time to compute what was going on. By the time the thought did register in his head, it had already flown off his shoulders, severed by Eric's longsword. All around him were burning vampires, frozen vampires, and vampires wrestling with lengths upon lengths of silver chains that writhed and twisted like a nest of vipers. That Magneto really did have a flare for drama.

Sophie-Ann, upon seeing that she might not win this battle, despite having the bigger army, was beating a hasty retreat, but Eric was having none of it. He made a beeline for the queen. He was older, stronger, and faster. He hooked his arm around her throat. She screamed and tried to claw his eyes out. He tightened his grip and put his sword to her neck. She might not have been the best monarch, but she wasn't dumb. She stopped struggling immediately.

"Stop!" he roared. "I have the queen!"

Both the mutants and Sophie-Ann's supporters stopped, some with their claws stuck in someone else's ribs and others in the middle of ripping off someone's head. He was rather pleased to note that none of the mutants had been killed. The sheriffs who had renounced their loyalty to the queen —and that was almost everyone— looked on impassively at the battlefield, waiting for their chance to strike.

"Well, Northman," said the Sheriff of Area Eight. "Are you not going to end her and take your place as king?"

"I've never had any desire to be a monarch," said Eric with a grim smile. He knew just what would happen if he did try to crown himself, and it wouldn't have been pretty. "I'd much rather work with one, wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?" Sophie-Ann hissed and tried to glare at him, but his hold on her was too tight. "Well now," Eric continued. "That's all over and done with. I think we have come to an understanding. No one messes with me, and I won't mess with anyone." He nodded at the Wolverine, who yanked his claws out of the unfortunate vampire he'd impaled and took up one of the silver chains. Eric held Sophie-Ann still as Howlett bound her none too gently. The sheriffs were confused; they'd expected him to kill the queen after this. Eric, on the other hand, had seen some of the best players in politics at work, and he'd learned a few tricks.

"What are you going to do to me?" demanded Sophie-Ann. "Are you not going to kill me and be done with it?"

"Kill you? What would be the point in that?" said Eric. "No, your majesty. Now that we have settled out differences, I am going to offer you my hospitality. You will be a guest in Area Five. As for Area One, you need not worry. Andre will take care of it in your absence, won't you, Andre?"

The queen's most beloved child and lieutenant glared at Eric. However, with his queen bound in silver chains and at the mercy of the Viking, whilst he himself was in the grasp of a crazed Sabretooth, he wasn't about to do anything rash. Instead, he nodded stiffly. "I will, Sheriff," said Andre.

"Very good," said Eric, satisfied with the answer. He turned his attention to the other sheriffs, who, up until now, had been spectators. "Since the queen is somewhat...incapacitated, I believe it's only right that someone takes up the reins of government until she is fit to rule again, don't you agree?"

"Of course, Sheriff Northman," said the Sheriff of Area Eight without missing a beat. "And may I be so bold as to nominate yourself as regent? You have proven that you are worthy of such a position."

"Indeed," said the Sheriff of Area Four. "You will have the support of Area Four."

One by one, all the sheriffs declared that they would support him if he made himself regent, as he had expected they would. It had been a calculated risk, but he knew what they were all thinking. They didn't actually want him as regent, but if they got rid of him now, they would then have to fight one another, or deal with the Queen's wrath for not helping her. As for her supporters, they didn't want her to end up finally dead. Someone might still have emerged as a victor in the end, but the price was too high. Also, no one wanted to be responsible for Sophie-Ann's debt. Therefore, letting Eric become regent was the lesser of two evils. They could recuperate, accuse him of treason, and then get rid of both him and Sophie-Ann legally. Of course, Eric didn't intend on giving them the chance to do that.

The sheriffs of Areas Two, Six and Eleven would have to be held accountable for their actions, accepting bribes from another king, but right now, he was going to keep their secrets. There was no point in throwing down the trump card when he had no need to do so. Let them think that they were safe for a little longer. The treason accusation would come, he knew it, and when it did come, he wanted to have something to throw back at those who would point the finger at him. For now, he was content with how things had proceeded.

* * *

Using his captive queen and his newfound prestige as leverage, Eric managed to overturn the odds completely. Marie couldn't help but feel proud of him. He must have sensed her pride, because he actually winked at her, fangs down. Ah, she'd just inflated that ego even further, if that was even possible. As if it wasn't enough that everyone was now calling him 'Lord Regent', he now knew how much he'd impressed her with his political manoeuvring.

One by one, the vampire sheriffs, upon seeing that the battle was over and that Eric and his allies had won, left Bon Temps with their retinues. It wasn't long until they were almost alone, save for Andre and the queen's retinue. "I swear, Northman," hissed the queen's child. "If anything happens to her—"

"Nothing will happen to her," said Eric, cutting him off in midsentence. "I will make sure my lady is as comfortable as she can be." Well, as comfortable as she could be in a dungeon with silver coated walls or silver bars. From what she knew of Eric, which, admittedly, wasn't much, he would be keeping a very close eye on Sophie-Ann. She was now his trump card, his weapon against Andre and possibly his key out of the drug-dealing accusations.

And at that moment, Eric's phone started vibrating and yes, everyone could see it move against his thigh. Somehow, the X-Men uniform accommodated pockets. And yes, Marie did mistake it for something else for a split second. She had hormones and combined with the remaining adrenaline in her bloodstream, it was doing funny things to her brain.

"Hold onto her," Eric said to Logan as he handed over the custody of the queen to the Wolverine. As an afterthought, he added, "Please."

* * *

Sibylla always did call at the worst moments, although this time, she was calling to deliver...well, startling news. One, Pam had 'taken' one of the queen of New York's private planes and was flying down to Bon Temps in the company of the weather-working mutant —he was quite certain that Pam and Sibylla, being as friendly as two women such as them could be, had collaborated on this one— and two, Russell Edgington's antics had been broadcast all over CNN and Fox news was replaying the footage on loop along with one Senator Steve Newlin imploring citizens to defend themselves against these 'brutal beasts from the deepest pits of hell' who were 'threatening the rights, lives and freedom of good god-fearing American citizens'. Actually, he'd expected that. Television news thrived on drama, and having a vampire rip out a newsman's spine on live television was pretty dramatic. Whoever owned the network was probably secretly praising his god for giving him such a great opportunity.

The thing was, not only did all the humans in the world know about it, they were also reacting to it in a most uncivilized way. Vampires were being attacked, at night and in broad daylight. So far, the casualties had been relatively few, considering the lynch gangs were still rather small, but they were growing in size.

Due to the uproar, the AVL's powers had been suspended by the highest vampire power in existence; Jerusalem, and the High Council. Now, Eric was hardly one to rejoice in this mess, but the suspension of the AVL's authority was an excellent thing for him at the moment. It meant that the magister would not be able to do any proper persecuting, and since Eric was at the top of Baranova's persecution list...well, he couldn't say he was _that_ sorry. Even if the High Council tried him, at least they would be fairer. He just had to hire himself a brilliant lawyer. He mentioned the need for a lawyer to Sibylla. Demon lawyers were all very well, but most vampires tended to hire them, and they didn't specialize so much. He needed someone better.

"Oh, the AVL no longer relies on demon lawyers," said Sibylla. "At least, that's the newest information I have. And trust me, they _will_ want to prosecute you after that stunt you pulled on Baranova, which, I must say, was fucking brilliant."

"Who do they use, then?" asked Eric with a frown. This was a recent development, of this he was certain.

"An English vampire who used to run the East India Trading Company," said Sibylla. "A cutthroat if there ever was one. But don't worry. I'll find you the antidote."

"And why should I trust you?" asked Eric. Who did Sibylla hire for a lawyer? He didn't remember hearing about him, or her. She did have an entire panel of financial lawyers, but his case was hardly a financial one. Besides, what if she had ulterior motives? Everyone had ulterior motives in politics.

"Darling, you _know_ I have no designs on that miserable mosquito-infested swamp you call a kingdom," said Sibylla. "I have _standards_. Besides, you _are_ family. You will be most satisfied with my choice of lawyer, I assure you." The phone clicked on the other end, and he was left with a dial tone. Well, he would just have to wait and see. Only one thing was certain. He was probably going to be surprised by her choice.

* * *

Sookie pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She couldn't believe she was in Bill's house, after everything that had happened. Bill himself was nowhere to be seen, and for that she was glad. She had a feeling that Logan had chased the vampire out of his own home. A cup of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table in front of her. Steam curled up from the murky brown surface. She reached down and took up the cup. The warmth seeped through to her skin, giving her some comfort. She'd thought, for a moment, that she would never taste chocolate again.

"So...what happened?" she asked. There were only two people in Bill's study; herself and Gabriel. The angel's colour was much improved now that he'd had something strong to drink and some food.

"What do you know about Phoenix?" Gabriel inquired.

"Not much," Sookie admitted. "She came to me once before, in a dream. I saw Claudine too, I think, in that dream. Phoenix said that...she was part of me, that she would help me. It was in Russell Edgington's mansion, I was sleeping, and then the next thing I knew, I was ripping doors off their hinges and killing werewolves and vampires without touching them. It was all her, wasn't it?"

"Partly," said Gabriel. "Your fae heritage means that you have powers of your own, and you are attuned to the latent energies of the earth which most normal people wouldn't sense. But essentially, she did give you a 'lift', if you could call it that."

"And back there, at my house...?" asked Sookie. She let the question trail off. He would know her meaning.

"No, that was purely Phoenix," said Gabriel. "Your anger meant that you lost control of yourself, and she took the opportunity to utilize you fully."

"Utilize me?"

"She chose you as her vessel, just as she chose the other telepath before you. She has a thing for telepaths, only you were strong enough to drive her out this time."

"Well, that's good to know," said Sookie. "What is she?"

Gabriel gave a sigh. "She wasn't always like this," he said. Was that a hint of sadness? "I suppose you would call her a fallen angel nowadays."

"You mean, she was like you once?" asked Sookie.

"She was more powerful than I was," said Gabriel. "She still is, essentially."

"You said she wasn't always like this," said the telepath, prompting him.

"No, she wasn't," said Gabriel. "Once, before the existence of the first vampire, she was truly beautiful, but she despised rules and authority. I guess she just lost it. Now she thrives in chaos and destruction."

"I noticed that," said Sookie drily.

"That's an hors d'oeuvre, sweetheart," said Gabriel, raising an eyebrow. "She is capable of so much more."

"Like...how much more?"

"She destroyed Atlantis almost singlehandedly."

"_Atlantis_ is real?"

"It was, before Phoenix destroyed it. Atlantis is where the first vampire originated from."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the delayed update. I've been swamped with work and course work; it's the last semester of my last year and that bloody earthquake means the semester is all squished up. I hope the political stuff wasn't too confusing. It made sense in my head. As for the lawyer, he's a 'special' guest from yet another fandom. I've always wanted to put him in True Blood and see what happens. Let's just say he has a talent for making messes. I've buried a few clues about his identity in this chapter. Any ideas? The idea about Phoenix came to me when I was researching angel names. Apparently, Phoenix was a fallen angel.


	32. Atlantis and Asparagus

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize!

**Chapter 32: Atlantis and Asparagus**

"The first vampires came from _Atlantis_?" Well, of course they did. Duh. Gabriel had just said that.

"You sound surprised," said the angel. He lit an old-fashioned wooden pipe with a match, took a draught and then blew out the smoke through pursed lips. "I don't blame you. Many vampires don't know this history of theirs, or if they do, they dismiss it as fiction."

"But it isn't," said Sookie. She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

"No, it isn't," said Gabriel. "The Atlanteans were powerful magicians and sorcerers. They had magic in their blood and they could manipulate the magics of the earth." He propped up his booted feet on Bill's coffee table. Maybe they didn't teach manners in Heaven. "The earth is covered with what the faeries call ley lines. Imagine them as being cables through which magic is transported. These ley lines converge at seven major points all over the world. We call these vortexes. There are six secondary vortexes, and one central vortex to which all the ley lines and all the other vortexes are connected. At the time, that central vortex was situated in Atlantis, making it the most powerful and most advanced empire the world has ever seen, and possibly will ever see."

"Where was Atlantis?"

"Not in the Atlantic, as the name suggests. It was in the middle of the Mediterranean. Its borders stretched beyond that of the Roman Empire, and there was no other major power, or even minor powers. Humans who did not possess the powers of the Atlanteans were either slaves or savages living in the Stone Age.

"However, the Atlanteans, with nothing to challenge their sovereignty, began to war amongst themselves, each seeking to control the vortex. Atlantis split into several warring states. One of these was ruled by two brothers and one sister. They were, all of them, very powerful practitioners of magic, even for their own kind. At that time, they were attempting to work the greatest magic of all; the magic that created life. They experimented and tried to perfect their method. But the other states, knowing how powerful they were, formed an alliance against them. They were attacked, and the two brothers were severely wounded in battle. In fact, I have reason to believe that they died after they were taken back within the walls of their own city.

"Their sister, in an attempt to restore them to life, used that imperfect spell on them. It didn't work out the way she'd intended it to."

"She turned her brothers into vampires with a spell?"

"Yes, those were the first two vampires."

"So vampires are actually the result of a failed magical experiment?" Oh, boy. This was rich.

"Pretty much." The angel was grinning too. "They don't like to think of themselves as such, of course, being arrogant and conceited creatures in general, but that is what they are."

"The two vampires didn't kill their sister, did they?"

"Oh, no. Out of the three of them, their sister was the most powerful. I doubted that any vampire, practitioners of magic or otherwise, could have harmed her. However, she disappeared from history after that, and no one really knows what she got up to."

"Maybe she became Buffy," Sookie said as a joke.

"She'd certainly make a better vampire slayer than the girl on television. She certainly didn't care about dates or romance."

"You watched _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_?"

"Boredom makes men do strange things, Sookie."

* * *

The Queen had been secured. Magneto might have been a tricky bastard, but he had been a useful tricky bastard, and he was good at what he did. Within an hour, he'd turned the basement of Fangtasia into a holding cell, with silver walls, silver ceilings, and a silver door. Of course, they were really concrete covered in the finest silver leaf, because Eric really couldn't get his hands on so much silver at a moment's notice. However, the main thing was that the queen was contained, and he'd left his vampires guarding her. This would only be a temporary arrangement until he could figure out something better. The Viking had half a mind to send her up to New York and let Sibylla hold her in custody. There was no escaping the fact that he seriously owed New York now.

Pam had arrived half an hour after the battle, and she'd been pissed as hell that she'd missed all the action. She was also very impressed with Sookie's attempt at bringing forward Armageddon. She'd actually whistled at the sight of the destruction, and then she'd pouted when Eric had told her to organize the clean up. He had pointed out that she'd disobeyed him by coming back before he'd summoned her, and she'd shut up and begun calling vampire clean-up services.

Vampires had the best clean-up services in the world, probably because whenever they made messes, it was never small. There would usually be at least one _dead_ dead body, possibly dismembered, a lot of blood and a lot of wreckage.

The bodies were gone from Sookie's front lawn now. Instead of a warzone, it now looked like a hurricane had ripped through the area instead, which was a slight improvement. Extreme weather phenomena worried human authorities, but not as much as carnage and death. Eric circled the area, making sure that nothing suspicious remained. The clean-up crew had done a good job. No evidence remained of the fight the night before. Satisfied with this, he headed on towards Bill Compton's house, knowing full well that Compton had been forced to rent a room in Shreveport's only vampire-friendly hotel whilst his house was being occupied by a group of mutants, two faeries, and an archangel.

As he drew closer, he wrinkled his nose. He smelled garlic. A lot of it.

* * *

Sookie felt just a little bit guilty about cooking garlic pasta and making garlic bread in Bill's house, but her guilt didn't last long. She could buy him an air freshener if the smell really bothered him that much. Besides, after everything that had happened to her, she needed some comfort food, and she loved Italian. Food, that was. She couldn't speak the language at all. Ah, yes. Perhaps she really ought to consider learning another language. The world was becoming increasingly multicultural, wasn't it? Now that she was no longer involved with this vampire shit, perhaps she'd have the time...

There was a knock on the door. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she went to answer it. Eric stood on Bill's porch, with an expression of slight distaste on his face. Sookie couldn't help but smirk. It wasn't often that _Eric Northman_ looked uncomfortable. "Is you cousin in, Sookie?" he asked.

"She is," said Sookie. She turned around and called for her cousin. Marie could decide whether she wanted to invite Eric in or not. If it had been up to the telepath, she'd have told the Nordic vampire to go back to Shreveport, but Marie seemed genuinely fond of him, if a bit confused as to what they were. Marie came downstairs, sucking on one of those long cylindrical popsicles.

* * *

Eric couldn't help himself. His fangs dropped and he grinned. His blood rushed downwards towards one particular part of his body. He could easily imagine those lips elsewhere, being put to much better uses. Marie took that sinful thing out of her mouth, and from what he could feel of her emotions, she'd just realized what she was doing to him, and she was just a _wee_ bit embarrassed. At least, that was what he thought it was. Eric Northman did not know firsthand the meaning of embarrassment. "Hey, Eric," she said, as if she didn't know the effect she was having on him. He'd never thought he'd be jealous of a long piece of flavoured ice. "I didn't expect you so early."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sookie watching the two of them the same way a naturalist would observe two animals interacting or a forensic anthropologist would examine the skeletal remains of a murder victim. "You said we could _talk_ if I returned in one piece," he said, waggling his eyebrows and ignoring the fact that they were being watched. Marie raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, she was feeling cynical —a feeling that he did know about— and she was well justified. He didn't really want to talk, per se, because his imagination was working overtime, thanks to that popsicle. "Although, if you're not up for talking, I can think of a number of different things that we can do."

"Actually, we do need to talk," said Marie.

* * *

He didn't seem surprised that she needed a holiday. Perhaps he could feel how tired she was —not of her work, but of all the troubles that seemed to follow them. She hadn't been good at staying out of trouble in New York, but problems seemed to have doubled ever since she'd come to Louisiana. She'd been shot at, almost blown up twice, almost drained, started two relationships and ended one already. Actually, did her and Eric's tongue wrestling sessions count as a _relationship_ relationship?

"Do you really want to leave?" he asked her.

"Not permanently," said Marie. "I just need some time to clear my head and recover, that's all."

"Didn't you come to Louisiana to clear your head?"

"I did, but then...things happened, and now I'm more confused than I started out. I have no idea what I want." A lot of her confusion had to do with him. Was it really wise to embark on a relationship with a man who was a thousand years her senior, who was powerful, immortal, and who, in all likelihood, didn't actually want a relationship of the same sort that she wanted? Actually, that last one would be easy. She wasn't going to get involved in an unhappy relationship, that was for certain. She wasn't _that_ desperate. Still, Eric had been kinda mum as to what he actually did want from her, apart from the obvious. He'd been sweet, and he'd been bossy, and he'd been kind. Marie had never been that good with mixed signals. Besides, being in his presence wasn't conducive to rational thinking. He did things to her by just being there. She wanted to kiss those lips, to tangle her fingers in his golden hair, to—

"I think you know exactly what you want," said Eric. He could obviously sense her admiration for him, and he was preening. "As do I."

"Eric, you know what I mean," said Marie.

"Yes, I do, and I'm telling you I know exactly what you want. I can feel it."

"Uh huh, so you can tell I'm serious about this holiday?" She wasn't going to back down. She really did need some time to herself. Besides, it was going to be Christmas soon, and one ought to spend Christmas with family. "I love my job, Eric, but battles, and magic, and werewolves...it's just a little much."

"You are frightened."

"I guess I am."

"Do you always run from what frightens you?"

"I'm not running. I'm getting some rest and recovery. The holiday will only be temporary. That is, if there isn't anything you desperately need me to do."

"Oh, I can think of a few things that I want you to do right now," said Eric with a mischievous smirk. "Although I am never desperate, Marie."

"I meant business-related things," she said with a long-suffering sigh. What had she expected? This was Eric, and he'd made his physical desire for her quite obvious, she felt. She was a virgin, but she wasn't dumb. "I mean, I can still update the Fangtasia blog while I'm in New York, and there are phones and things if you need me to do interviews."

"There is a business function," said Eric thoughtfully, "although that is not until after the New Year. I suppose you will want to spend the Christian winter celebrations in New York with your friends?"

"Of course," said Marie. "They're more like family than friends, and Christmas is a time for family. What business function?"

"The Annual Shreveport Entrepreneurs' Gala," said Eric. "It happens on the fourth of January each year. Basically, it is a fundraising event and it would bore me to death if I were not already dead. I attend simply to cultivate a positive public image for all the vampires in my area. You will have your holiday from the sixteenth of December until the thirtieth, so you will be back in time for Fangtasia's New Year's Eve Party, of course."

"We'll be open by then?" That was just slightly more than a month away. Would the storm blow over by that time?

"Oh, yes. We'll be open by next week."

"What about the anti-vampire attacks and the lynchings?"

"As if I am going to let ignorant humans stop me from conducting business," said Eric with a derisive snort. "Now, more than ever, vampires need to present a strong front. We cannot let them know that we are afraid. That would only encourage them because they will think they are succeeding. Besides, if we open, it would be possible to cultivate the image of the civilized, friendly neighbourhood vampire."

"I'm sorry, but you're not the vamp-next-door type," said Marie, trying and failing to imagine Eric hosting a neighbourhood barbecue.

"I may yet surprise you," said Eric. "Now, if we're quite done talking, may I take you out to dinner, Miss D'Ancanto? I know of a restaurant that serves the most delightful asparagus."

Delightful asparagus? Oh, _asparagus_.

* * *

Sookie was worried about Marie. The girl was too young to get involved with a vampire, especially one who was as old and devious as Eric Northman. He'd taken her out to dinner a week ago and she hadn't been able to sleep that night until she heard Marie sneaking back in, her mind full of thoughts about Eric's kissing technique and how confused she was about him. Well, at least she was _thinking_ about it, or trying to. The telepath had tried telling Logan about her worries for her cousin. She figured that of all the people in the girl's life, the Wolverine was the closest thing she had to a parental figure. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Mystique was a bit like her mother in some respects, but the metamorph was not a very good role-model when it came to this kind of thing. After all, she did walk around naked.

Logan hadn't been very helpful in that department. Firstly, he'd said that he was Marie's friend, not her father, and he didn't have the right to tell her what she should or should not do. She was a smart girl and he trusted her judgement. Besides, he'd added, Eric Northman wasn't the worst vampire that Marie could be wanting to date. No one ever said that the Wolverine had any tact.

If Van Helsing had been there, Sookie would have talked to him. However, the archangel had had to return to Europe the day after the battle, and Claudine had left for Britain soon after. Both of them had promised to return soon, but they both had important top-secret business to deal with. Sookie hadn't asked about it.

The telepath could have contacted Marie's real parents, of course. She knew where they lived and their telephone number; they exchanged Christmas cards every year. However, considering they hadn't bothered to search for their daughter when she'd run away —and all evidence suggested that they'd encouraged her to leave— she didn't want to know how they'd react if they found out that their daughter was considering dating a dead guy. Actually, would they even care? In all likelihood, it would have been a waste of a toll call, even if she had planned on using Bill's phone.

Speaking of Bill, he'd turned up a couple of nights ago to say that he was going to be out of the country for a few months, and that Sookie and Marie were welcome to stay in his house until they found alternative accommodation. Sookie had moved into one of Sam's empty rental units the next day, after the mutants had returned to New York. She just wasn't comfortable staying in the house of someone who'd used and betrayed her like that. She knew that Bill had had his own difficulties, but she couldn't forgive him at the moment. She didn't know if she ever could forgive him. Gabriel had said something about taking some time to let things calm down before she made any decisions. Perhaps it was a good thing that Marie had persuaded her to go to New York for two weeks with her. It would be nice to go someplace that held no memories for her.

"Sookie! Are you all right?" The telepath was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of her boss' voice.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said. "You were saying?"

"I was asking you what you think about adding asparagus rolls to the menu," said Sam patiently.

"Asparagus?" Oh, _hell_, no. Eric and Marie —and their not-so-quiet conversation on the porch— had changed her views about asparagus forever. "Um...sorry, Sam, but I don't think that's a good idea."

Sam put down the menu. "Are you sure you should be working, Sook?" he asked with genuine concern. "I mean, that hurricane..." He trailed off. He knew it hadn't been a hurricane that had wrecked Sookie's house. He didn't know the exact details, but he knew about the battle and her 'outburst'.

"I'm fine, Sam," said Sookie. "I just need to keep busy, and I need the money."

"All right, then," said Sam. He knew when not to press it. "Just remember, if you need anything, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Sam," said Sookie. "I'll keep that in mind. I'd better go. Andy Bellefleur looks like he wants a refill." She'd just delivered the jug of beer to the detective's table when Sam called her over, phone in hand.

"Sookie, you'd better take this," he said. His voice was solemn, and he looked worried. She took the receiver from him and gave him an odd look, but he didn't elaborate.

"Hello, Sookie speaking," said the telepath.

"This is Pam," said the unmistakeable deadpan drawl on the other end. That was unusual. She could count the number of times Pam had spoken to her —as opposed to at her or over her head— on one hand. "Someone took a shot at your cousin."

"Is she all right?" Sookie felt faint and her legs felt like wet spaghetti. She leaned against the bar for support and reminded herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. Breathe.

"She's alive. We have her attacker. He has your address and your picture too. Eric said to tell you to stay in that bar until I come here to fetch you. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." She didn't give Sookie any more time to ask questions before she hung up. Vampires.

"It's bad?" said Sam, gently prying the receiver from Sookie's fingers. It wasn't until he did so that she realized she'd be holding onto the plastic phone as if it was her only link to life. She swallowed a couple of times. Her throat felt dry. Someone had shot at Marie. He had their address and both their pictures. Obviously, someone had been stalking them for a while, and she had a hunch she knew the reason. Both of them had been working for vampires. One of them had dated a vampire and the other had appeared on television to defend vampires.

"I don't know," she whispered. "She didn't say."

Sam quietly poured Sookie a shot of whiskey and pushed it towards her. She drank down the liquid in one gulp, letting the fire trail down her oesophagus and into her stomach, warming her and giving her limbs some much needed strength. "Do you need me to drive you down to Shreveport?"

"No, it's fine," Sookie said. "Pam's coming to pick me up."

Pam had said that she would be at Merlotte's in fifteen minutes, but she made it in just ten. Sookie was just cleaning up one of her tables then, placing half-empty glasses and plates of leftovers on her tray. She nodded at Pam, who didn't bother to even pretend that she was a customer. Of course, she couldn't even if she tried. The female vampire was still dressed in her usual work wear. This time, it consisted of a leather corset that laced up at the front and leather trousers so tight that they fit her like a second skin.

They didn't talk much during the journey to Shreveport. Well, Pam talked a lot to Eric on her phone in some ancient language that probably wasn't used anymore. Before she knew it, they were driving up a long driveway of a secluded property in a rather nice neighbourhood. The house itself was modest, with yellow brick walls and that steel roofing material that was made to resemble tiles.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"A house," said Pam unhelpfully.

"Whose house?"

"Eric's," said Pam.

_This_ was Eric's house? She'd expected that the Viking would live somewhere a little more...ornate.

* * *

The police were outside her hospital room, talking to Eric. Marie could make out about half the words that were being exchanged. They seemed to be discussing why anyone would want to target her or her cousin, as if there could be any reason other than the fact that she represented the 'humans' who supported vampires and their rights, the term 'human' being used rather loosely here. The pungent smells of antiseptic and disinfectant assailed her nose. The gash in her upper arm stung and throbbed, but it wasn't totally unbearable. She thanked God that the shooter was, as Logan would put it so eloquently, 'absolute shit'. The bullet had only grazed her arm. She was pretty sure the shooter had been aiming for her head.

She'd been going outside to get a coffee from a nearby Starbucks when she'd heard the gunshot and seen the spark from the rolled down window of a parked car. She hadn't even had the time to duck. However, the assassin had been an amateur. After he realized that he hadn't, in fact, killed her, he seemed to panic, mainly because the vampires within had heard and thought they were under attack. Remy, bless him, had thrown a coin at the car's tyre, bursting it. The shooter and his getaway driver had tried to make a dash for it, on foot, but the dash had ended before it had even started. Eric had grabbed the shooter by the neck and the driver had had Pam's stiletto heel against his chest.

Somewhere along the line, someone had called an ambulance and the police, and despite the fact that vampire medical techniques would have helped her to heal quicker —apparently, their saliva had healing properties for humans, just as their blood did— she'd been whisked off to hospital to get stitches. They'd tried to give dope her up with painkillers as well, but she wanted to be lucid. Besides, painkillers weren't exactly good for the body.

Eric came in a few moments later. "They are gone," he said of the police. "Although I doubt they will find the man behind the attack."

"I doubt it too," said Marie. Eric seemed thoughtful. "Eric, you're not going to..."

"I'm considering it," said the vampire. "They attacked one of my people. That's a blood offense against me. I cannot let it go unpunished."

"Public image," she reminded him. "I believe in karma."

"You wish for me not to take action?"

"No...just not violent action. Denounce them on television or radio or something, but apart from that, turn the other cheek, you know, Christian values."

"I am not a Christian. I have never been and I do not see the point of following a god so weak that he was executed by mortals."

"The point is that he let himself be sacrificed to pay for the sins of humanity."

"How? He died, but his death does not make those people any less guilty. If repentance is all that is needed, then why did he have to die? _He_ is supposedly the supreme god, after all. He makes the decisions."

"I'm not a theologian, so I don't know all the finicky details, and are we really going to talk about the finer points of religion in a hospital room?"

They did not continue this conversation, or any other conversation, in the hospital room. Instead, Eric found a doctor, who then discharged Marie due to the fact that there had been a bar brawl in another part of town, resulting in a small riot and therefore numerous injuries. There simply wasn't enough room for a girl who didn't actually need to stay overnight at the hospital.

At first, she thought Eric was going to drive her home, but then he told her that she couldn't go home because they'd found files with information on both her and Sookie in the shooter's car, so it would not be safe for them to return to Bon Temps.

"So where _are_ we going?" asked Marie. Her rational self was screaming at her to call Logan and ask him to take her back to New York, but that would be a cowardly thing to do. She wasn't going to let those fundies scare her into imposing self-exile. Hell, she'd been shot at because she'd stood up for her beliefs. What sort of person would she be if she then went and denied what she believed was right just because she was afraid for her life?

"My house," said Eric. "Or one of them, at least, until we can make other arrangements. Ideally, I want to put you on the next flight to New York."

"I'm not going to run just because some ignoramus took a shot at me for my beliefs. That would be backing down, and I'm _not_ backing down."

"I'm not asking you to back down," said Eric, not turning to look at her. "I'm telling you to make a strategic retreat and get some rest and recovery."

"But there's so much work that needs doing, and you're already giving me a two-week holiday."

"Like you said, you can do your job in New York if you have a computer, an internet connection and a phone. It's the best option, in light of the situation. I would be...displeased if you got hurt." Well, that was the closest he'd ever come to actually saying that he cared about her. Baby steps.

"It would still look like I ran," argued Marie. "Everyone knows that New York is the least anti-vampire state. And if people think I ran, then they'll be too afraid to support the lobbying for minority rights. Then who knows what will happen next? I don't want to end up in a concentration camp with numbers tattooed on my forehead just because I'm different."

"Is that what you think will happen?"

"They've already passed the Mutant Registration Act. That's like what happened to the Jews when the Nazis made them sew Stars of David to their clothes. What's to stop them from passing an act that allows citizens to stake vampires if they believe they're threats, or a law that puts mutants in ghettos?"

He gave no response, but she could sense that he was thinking about it. Anyone with half a brain would be thinking about it. It was a genuine concern, and Eric, being who he was, probably understood this better than she did. After all, she'd only read about concentration camps. He'd probably seen one.

The red corvette pulled up the long driveway of a secluded property in a well-to-do neighbourhood. There was another car parked outside the house; Marie recognized it as being Pam's. Eric opened the garage door and parked inside, between a black Volvo SUV and a Mercedes Benz sedan in gold. Moving faster than the human eye could follow, he got out of the car and was on the other side, opening the door for her just as she'd unbuckled her seatbelt. He helped her out of the low seat, treating her as if she were as fragile as a sugar-spun sculpture. She felt a little apprehensive about entering a vampire's lair, as it were, not knowing what to expect. However, she wasn't afraid. She realized that she hadn't been afraid of Eric in a long time.

She felt his hand resting on the small of her back as he opened the door in the garage that led into the house. When she finally saw the interior, she was a little bit taken aback by the minimalist design. There were no personal effects that she could see. A few impressionist paintings and a some landscapes hung on the wall, but that was about it. He led her past the open kitchen —stainless steel countertops— and through the large dining room with a dining set that looked as if it had come straight out of a catalogue or a home design magazine and had never been used. The living room had a bit more character. Like the rest of the house, it had grey tile floors, but there was a large fireplace, and the walls were painted deep red, almost burgundy. The sofas were of a simple modern design, made of creamy buttery leather. Sookie was perched on the edge of one of those sofas as she nursed a glass of water, whilst Pam was sitting on one of the armchairs and flicking through a copy of _Playboy_.

The telepath leapt to her feet when she saw Marie and hugged her, taking care not to bump her arm or to make skin contact. "I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered.

"Me too," said Marie. Sookie made her go over every detail of the shooting twice, even though there wasn't much to tell. During that time, Eric made a phone call to New York—everyone, including the two humans, heard Logan roaring over the phone.

Logan, like Eric wanted the two girls to go to New York to weather out the storm. Pam supported Marie's suggestion of not running. Sookie wanted Marie to go to New York whilst she stayed in Bon Temps. In the end, they were able to reach a compromise. Marie and Sookie could both stay in Louisiana, provided that they had bodyguards with them twenty four hours a day, unless they were with either Eric or Pam. Marie was satisfied with that compromise. Sookie was not.

"I work in a _bar_," she said. "I can't have a hulk of a man shadowing me all the time!"

"It's either that, or you go to New York," said Eric. "I'm not letting you die for one stupid reason or another whilst you're under my protection. You are of royal faerie blood, Miss Stackhouse, and I'm not going to risk an interspecies war just because you're too obstinate to see the danger that you're in. These people have no qualms about hurting fellow humans to get their point across. They've proven it time and time again."

"But I just can't have the Incredible Hulk shadowing me! It'll ruin business."

Eric sighed and made another phone call. Whoever it was on the other end, they were on friendly terms with one another. The conversation was conducted in something that sounded French, but wasn't really French. Eric was put on hold for a while, and when he started talking again, his tone became a lot more respectful. He'd also switched languages. When he'd finished, and actually said something that seemed like a 'goodbye' instead of hanging up straight away, he looked quite pleased with himself.

"Sookie Stackhouse, you have no idea just how fortunate you are," he said. "The Atlantean has taken it upon himself to keep you safe."

Now, Marie had no idea who this 'Atlantean' was, but judging from the way Sookie's face changed colour, he was _very_ important.

"Atlantean? Really?" whispered Sookie.

"I had no idea you knew of him," said Eric, looking a little surprised. "How did you find out?"

"Van Helsing told me about the history," said Sookie.

"I suppose it saves me from having to explain it," said Eric. He sounded as if he was thinking out loud, which was quite unusual. "He knows it a lot better than I do." He snapped out of his reverie. "Your bodyguards will be meeting you tomorrow night at Fangtasia. Pam, take Sookie out to buy some human necessities. She and Marie will be staying here until then."

Pam nodded and beckoned to Sookie, who hesitated, but then reluctantly followed Pam out of the house, leaving Eric and Marie alone. Again. Marie gazed up at him. He was the epitome of masculine beauty, with his perfectly symmetrical face and his strong features. She could stare at him forever. No, really.

He jerked her out of her ogling session by sitting down and pulling her gently towards him, as if afraid that she might break. "Sit down," he said, patting the spot next to him. "I want to look at your arm."

She did as she was told. His deft fingers made short work of the bandage. There was a jagged red tear running diagonally across her upper arm. Black stitches held the wound together. The doctor had said the stitches would melt away on their own over time, so she wouldn't have to go to the hospital to have them removed. Without the bandage, there was nothing between his hand and her skin. She could feel the rough calluses on his palms from his human life.

His cool tongue was on her skin, licking up the blood around the wound. His saliva was sealing it better than anything that the doctors could have given her. She felt the pain fading away into a throbbing itch.

"I want you to take my blood," he said as he lifted his head from her arm. "You'll the strength."

"Only if you drink from me," said Marie. "It wouldn't be fair, otherwise. I've already had your blood once, but you've never had mine properly."

He grinned. "Oh, my little daywalker," he said. "I am sure it was your sense of fairness that drove you to say such a thing, but you've more or less propositioned me."

* * *

**A/N: **And the Fellowship is back! Sorry for the delay. Hope the long chapter made up for it! Medieval people ate asparagus to enhance fertility, due to its shape. ;)


	33. The Princess and the Tiger

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 33: The Princess and the Tiger **

She did not believe it was possible to blush harder than she did when he'd told her what she'd just inadvertently done. "I...I..." she stammered. "You know I didn't mean it."

"Unfortunately, for me," said Eric. "But I can see that you are not ready, and I will not make you do anything you are not ready for."

"You confuse me, Eric," said Marie. "You're so good to me, but when you're at the club, you're...well..." She trailed off, trying to search for the right word to describe the vampire who was now staring at her in a most amused manner. Was it flattering that she could entertain someone who had probably seen just about everything the world had to offer?

"Vicious, cruel, ruthless?" Eric supplied when her brain wasn't more forthcoming.

"Arrogant, overbearing, condescending, with a complete disregard for the feelings of others," she added. Well, now that he'd started it, she was on a roll.

"What are you trying to get at?"

"I'm trying to discern your character."

"And what have you found out so far?"

"Not much."

"I hope I can enlighten you in the future."

"Not now?"

Eric gave her a brilliant and rather suggestive grin. "I can think of much better things to do right now," he said. "It is not often that you are alone with me."

The kiss was so slow, so gentle. It was quite different from the other kisses that she'd shared with him. She leaned in closer to him, her arms snaking around his neck as she pulled him closer, relishing the touch of his cool skin beneath her bare hands. With little to no effort, he lifted her up from her seat beside him. Somehow, she ended up lying across his lap. His left hand, which had been supporting her upper back, slowly moved down her side, to her breast, her hip, her thigh, his fingers leaving a trail of electric fire on her body. He pulled her shirt out of her pants and slipped his hand up it, tracing patterns gently on the bare skin of her back and moving ever so slowly upwards until he reached her bra.

"Eric, wait," she gasped, breaking off the kiss and pushing him away. "This isn't right."

He looked at her oddly. "You have never complained before," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"_This_ is wrong," she said. "We've never gone this far before."

"You say you do not like this, but your body is telling me something else," said Eric. "Now _you _are confusing me."

"I _do_ like this, and that's the problem," she said as she pushed herself up and climbed off his lap with as much dignity and propriety as she could. "I shouldn't. It's not right."

"It feels right, does it not?" he asked.

"Yes, but it doesn't make it right, Eric," she said. "I can't...you know, just do casual sex."

He didn't say anything, and the awkward silence continued until Sookie and Pam returned. Marie was certain that they both realized something was going on, but neither of them asked questions, for which she was grateful. She wasn't nearly ready to talk, and even if she did want to talk, the first person who came to mind was not in Louisiana right now.

* * *

It was possibly the most uncomfortable day in her life. Eric had told both Marie and Sookie not to leave the house during the day, so they were stuck inside. That would have been all right if Marie wasn't constantly reminded of the conversation she'd had with the ancient vampire the night before. She'd thrown down the gauntlet. It hadn't been specific —she'd just implied she wanted to be in a proper relationship before she had sex, but considering her situation, she'd more or less told Eric that she wanted a relationship with him.

That thought alone mortified her. It wasn't that she _didn't_ want a relationship with him. Hell, she fantasized about it all the time, but she was embarrassed that she'd said it out loud. Yes, it was irrational, but she never claimed to be a calm and logical person. She really wanted to talk to Logan, and see what he thought, despite the fact that he wasn't the best authority on relationships. He was her best friend, after all, and she knew she could trust him with anything. Anything except cooking, of course, and biology homework. However, Sookie always seemed to be present, so it was difficult to find a chance to talk to him alone. The Wolverine did not text, nor did he use email. In fact, he'd have been quite happy if the only communication technology available had been the telegram and pen and paper. Modern digital technology simply confused and frustrated him, as evidenced by the number of computer screens he'd punched.

Finally, she did get a chance to sneak off into the bathroom under the pretences of having a shower. She turned on the water, and then called Logan's cell. He told her off for getting shot, threatened to come down and bring her home —and sounding quite a bit like a father, despite his claims that he wasn't paternal at all— and then told her to be careful. He'd then listened without interrupting as she told him about what had happened after the shooting.

"So...he said he'd be displeased if you got killed, huh?" said Logan after she'd finished.

"Yeah," said Marie.

"And then he didn't say anything when you pretty much threw down the gauntlet and told him you wanted something more than just a...um...physical relationship."

"That's right."

"You know, I don't know the guy all that well, but considerin' the kind of thing he's capable of and the way he's behaving around you, I'd say he's attached to you," said Logan.

"I know that, but I don't know what sort of attachment he has to me, whether I'm just an asset, or something else more. I mean, this is Eric Northman we're talking about. He's like...Casanova: Deluxe Edition."

"So he sleeps around, is that what you're tryin' to say?"

"I don't think he does a lot of _sleeping_. At least half of the employees at Fangtasia are...y'know. There's this one dancer who he...he's with her a lot, but when they're in public, he doesn't even acknowledge her."

"He acknowledges you in public, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess he does."

"There you go, then." Logan sounded a little smug that he'd actually managed to help her with a problem that could not be solved by violence. "You're somethin' special, Marie. Don't forget that. And if he doesn't take up that gauntlet, he's a douche. By the way, I don't care if he's hirin' bodyguards for you and Sookie. I'm still comin' down."

"Can't wait to see you, Logan," she said with a smile. She could always rely on him to cheer her up or comfort her. It was as if he was her guardian angel. When she came out of the shower, she felt as if she'd had a load lifted from her shoulders.

* * *

The shooting didn't seem to have deterred the patrons of Fangtasia. In fact, the club was even more packed than usual. Marie wasn't manning the souvenir stall today. Her arm, although it was healing, was nowhere near properly healed, and Eric had told her that she and Sookie were going to sit in his private booth until it was time to meet their new bodyguards. He himself was on throne duty —he was the only one allowed on that throne, after all . The mutant had protested a bit, saying that she really should be doing her job, but he'd refused to budge, and she hadn't pressed it. So she sat at the booth and updated the blog, as well as dealt with the thousands of emails that came into Fangtasia's official email every day. Technically, that wasn't her job, but Sookie suspected that Eric had intended to keep her busy, in case the girl got any outlandish ideas into her head. Most of the emails were proposals for Eric; half the fangbangers in Louisiana either wanted to have sex with him or marry him, or both. Pam also got a lot of proposals; she'd be disgusted to learn that most of them were from men, and not very attractive ones, at that. There was also a slew of hate mail. Marie moved those to a special folder in case they were ever needed as evidence.

"For what?" asked Sookie. "They don't actually sign their real names. I mean, Warrior_of_God at gee-mail dot com could be from Afghanistan, for all we know."

"Emails can be traced, Cous," said Marie, not looking away from her laptop screen. She also had one of those ridiculous games going; the ones where you planted virtual crops, harvested them and made virtual money. Sookie didn't see the point of those, but then again, she just didn't really like computers. She looked around. Where were their bodyguards? She'd never understood the concept of being fashionably late. Late was late, and it was annoying to have to wait for people, even if her bodyguard was allegedly something special.

"Oh, instant message," said Marie, as a bubble popped up from the bottom of her screen. "Eric wants us in his office. Our bodyguards are here. Well, yours, at least."

"It's about time," said Sookie.

* * *

She was short, about five foot three, without her sky-scraper heels, and she was wearing tight gold lamé pants and a black sequined top, looking more like she belonged in Broadway than in Fangtasia. On her wrists were crystal cuffs and her bag looked as if it cost as much as Sookie earned in a year. Apparently, this modern princess was going to be her bodyguard. The telepath wondered what Eric had done to persuade her to come to a backwater place like Northern Louisiana. Even more surprising was the fact she actually seemed happy to be here.

Her name was Theodora Evelyn, and she was an old friend of Eric's. "We met during the thirteenth century, in Baghdad," she'd said, when Sookie had asked. Baghdad? That would explain her skin colour. She wasn't as pale as most vampires. In fact, her skin bore what could only be called a tan. The only thing was, wasn't her bodyguard supposed to protect her during the day as well, or was she going to have another guard during daylight hours? She asked about it, causing Theodora to laugh and Eric to grin.

"Theodora is a daywalker," said Eric.

"But you're a vampire," whispered Sookie, staring at the woman. She had to be, right, to have met Eric in the thirteenth century?

"I was," said Theodora. "And then I drank from the Fountain of Youth, and ceased to be vampire. It's a very long story."

"And...you're okay with watching a waitress from Bon Temps all day long."

"You did ask for someone who wouldn't ruin the shifter's business, Miss Stackhouse," said Eric. Well, that was true. Despite the impressive and very shiny designer clothing, Theodora would probably fit in Bon Temps better than anyone else Eric would have chosen. After all, she could even hide the fact that she was a vampire. Well, ex-vampire. All she had to do was get rid of the gold lamé pants and the crystal cuffs and then she'd be set.

"Don't worry, Sookie," Theodora said with a wink. "We girls will have a lot of fun, I promise." She turned to Eric. "Eric, it was good to see you again, your bar is unbelievably tacky, the drinks are exorbitantly overpriced, the customer service leaves much to be desired and Sookie and I should go. There's someone waiting to meet her at her house, and it would be rude to keep him waiting for too long."

Instead of being offended that his business had just been insulted, Eric just laughed. "Come back soon," he said. "I'll give you free drinks on the house, and maybe you can show those humans what dancing is."

"Only if you join me on the dance floor," said Theodora. "You were one of the best dance partners I ever had." Was it just her, or was there more than just friendship in Eric and Theodora's history. Sookie couldn't sense any sexual tension, but she couldn't exactly get a reading off either Eric or Theodora. Still, the only one with dropped fangs was Pam and the way the other two were talking made it seem as if they were more like brother and sister than lovers. At any rate, it was none of her business, apart from the fact that her cousin had an unhealthy infatuation with a certain tall, blond and undead man.

She made sure that Marie would be okay staying in the bar without her —"I _work_ here, Sook. I'll be fine."— before following Theodora out of the club via the employees' entrance. Much to her surprise, the glamourous ex-vampire did not drive some ridiculously flashy expensive car. In fact...

"A yellow mini?" said Sookie.

"It's a yellow hybrid," said Theodora. "It's cute, don't you think? Besides, we should take better care of the environment, or else the planet's going to implode in a hundred and fifty years or so."

"Tell that to Eric," said Sookie. "I'm not sure how much gas that corvette of his uses."

"Eric's a guy," said Theodora. "Guys, vampire or otherwise, don't really think about the future. It's been scientifically proven."

* * *

Well, Sookie had her bodyguard, but what about her? Marie sat on the leather sofa in Eric's office, watching her boss shuffle papers, and wondered if she should remind him that he was paying her for doing absolutely nothing at the moment. The vampire inspected his phone, texted something very quickly, and then put it on his desk. Moments later, the sound proof door of his office opened and Pam came in, leading one of the largest men Marie had ever seen in her life. He was bald, tanned, muscular, and he had violet eyes. To some, he would have been attractive, but Marie found him to be...well, he just wasn't her type. Not that it mattered, of course.

"Mr. Northman," said the man. His voice sounded like a deep rumble.

"Tiger," said Eric. "You know why you're here?"

"Mr. De Castro said something about you paying off my debt, but otherwise, I am in the dark," said Tiger.

"You're going to be my daywalker's bodyguard," said Eric. "Someone took a shot at her yesterday."

For the first time, Tiger looked at her, as if just realizing that there was someone sitting on the couch. He seemed confused as to why anyone would want to shoot her, but then recognition dawned on his face. "You're the girl on television," he said.

"Marie D'Ancanto," said Marie, rising to offer Tiger her gloved hand. He shook it. His grip was firm, and his hand was probably the size of a bear's paw. "Nice to meet you."

"John Quinn," said the man. "Nice to meet you too. You can call me Quinn."

* * *

Theodora pulled up Hummingbird Lane. Unlike her friend, she seemed to show appreciation for speed limits. It was either that, or her 'cute' little hybrid was simply not capable of high speeds. There was a man standing outside Sookie's ruined house, waiting. As Theodora stopped the car and switched off the engine, Sookie noticed that the man was glowing. His blond hair was so light that it looked almost white, and he was ethereally, breathtakingly beautiful. At first, she thought he was in his thirties, but one look at his eyes made her reconsider her initial estimate. His eyes —grey-blue, just like hers— were ancient and spoke of years of wisdom and experience.

"Hello," he said as she got out of the car. "You must be Sookie."

"How do you know me?" whispered Sookie.

"Prince Niall," said Theodora. "I hope we haven't kept you waiting for too long."

"I have waited many years for this, Miss Evelyn," said the prince. "What are a few more hours?"

"Niall?" said Sookie. Her great-grandfather. "You're Niall Brigant?"

"Yes, I am," he said. "I assume Claudine told you who I am."

"She did," said Sookie. "Why are you here?"

"Can I not visit my great-granddaughter?"

"You haven't visited in the twenty five years I've been alive. Why now?"

"Because you have shown that you are a true Brigant." The faerie did not seem offended at all. "Come, I know you feel a little resentful about my negligence, and I do not blame you, but my world is complicated. I did not want to involve either you or your brother in my affairs unless I had no other choice."

"What do you mean, you have no other choice?" asked Sookie.

"If you and your brother had appeared to be just like any other human, I would not have interfered in your life," said Niall. "However, you have shown faerie traits, and once news of that gets out, it will be dangerous for you. I have many enemies, and since you are of my house, you will be targeted."

"And Jason?"

"He has shown no affinity for magic," said Theodora. She turned to Sookie. "And since he has shown no sign of being anything other than human, no one will make the link. He is safe."

"And you know this, how?" asked Sookie. "Have you met him?"

"I've seen him from a distance, in New York," said Theodora. "I sensed no magic in him."

"That is well," said Niall. "He can continue to live life as he pleases, and he need not know of the troubles of the supernatural world."

"And me?" asked Sookie. Did that mean she was going to dragged into all this supe politics that she absolutely loathed? She'd only seen the vampire world, really, but from what she'd seen, she already knew she wanted no part of it.

"You are a Brigant," said Niall. "Your life will be shaped by many forces. However, as the archangel no doubt will have told you, you are mostly human, and thus, free choice is your right. And, since you are a Brigant, I will see to it that your home is restored. Let it not be said that I do not take care of my own."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," said Sookie. "I can figure out something."

"Consider this compensation for twenty five years of missed birthdays," said Niall. He raised his hands. Light gathered around him and then swirled outwards, surrounding the wreck of her house. Broken wood knitted back together. The tiles rearranged themselves and the shards of glass joined back to form her window panes. It was as if nothing had happened to it at all.

Perhaps she could come to like magic, if only just a little. She invited Niall in for a drink, but he declined, saying that he could not linger for too long. He kissed her on both cheeks, European fashion, before disappearing into thin air.

"He can teleport," said Theodora just as Sookie was about to panic. "Just as I can."

"You can teleport?" said the telepath. "Then why do you even drive?"

"Because I can only teleport short distances," said Theodora. "Say...five hundred feet."

"I think you'd better come in and we can get better acquainted with one another," said Sookie. After all, she _was _going to be spending a lot of time with this very strange woman. Creature. Thing. However, before they did any bonding, she was going to have to call Marie to tell her that she didn't need to go back to the tiny two bedroom unit.

* * *

"So, what's a nice girl like you doing with vampires?" asked Quinn as the two of them drove back to Bon Temps in Marie's car. Well, technically, it was one of Fangtasia's company cars which Eric had insisted she take, because it would be easier for her to commute. Quinn was driving, and she had to say that he wasn't the best driver. It wasn't that he lacked control of the car, but he always braked too quickly and he didn't always keep his eye on the road. Eric didn't always keep his eyes on the road, but with his vampire reflexes and his ability to see just about everything, not to mention his adoration for his corvette, she'd trusted that he wouldn't have crashed. Quinn was a were-tiger, which meant that his reflexes were faster than a normal human's, but still not as fast as a vampire's. Even Logan mostly kept his eyes on the road when driving, and he was near indestructible.

"I work for them, the same as you," said Marie.

"You're not...made of the same stuff," he said.

"Are you saying I'm not tough enough or that a woman shouldn't do what I'm doing?"

"I don't mean it like that, sweetheart, but you're young, and vampires are bad news. If I had a choice, I wouldn't be working for them."

"Humans can do just as much evil as any vampire, if not more. You don't need to have fangs to hurt and maim."

"True enough, but it's in a vampire's instinct to kill."

"With all due respect, I think we all have a natural killing instinct, Mr. Quinn. Some people, vampire or otherwise, can control it better than others." She herself was a natural predator, although she wasn't sure if she trusted her new bodyguard enough to tell him what she really was. Then she felt bad about it. Perhaps she was being unfair to the were-tiger. After all, she'd told Eric what she was the first time they'd ever met. She hadn't meant to, but she had. Still, she decided to keep mum for now. It was better to be safe than sorry.

* * *

"So...you're telling me that you can sense magic, but you can't really use it, except to teleport five hundred feet," said Sookie as she set down two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. Theodora, not being a vampire, was capable of eating food, although she could still survive on blood if she really desperately needed to.

"That's my gift, sensing magic," said Theodora. "Which is why I make an excellent investigator, if I may say so myself."

"Modest," said Sookie, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't believe in false modesty," said Theodora. "If I'm good at something, I'm good at it. It's just a fact."

"So, if you're so good at what you do, then why are you here, watching me? I'm just a barmaid."

"One, you're not just a barmaid," said Theodora. "You're faerie royalty. Two, the archangel has taken an interest in your welfare. Whatever is worth his time is probably worth my time. Three, Eric asked. Nicely. And last, the Atlantean told me I had to because everyone wants a piece of you, and I'm the only one without an agenda."

"That does not sound good, that part about where everyone wants a piece of me."

"That's just a fact. Sookie, you're a mutant faerie hybrid who's been touched by the archangel and chosen by Phoenix. And then you drove Phoenix out of you. You've got power that you don't know how to use, and everyone wants to harness it. Well, the vampires and faeries only, at present, but that's more than enough. The Atlantean knows that if any vampire takes you, the faeries will declare war on us, and that is something we do not want. He doesn't want the faeries to claim you either."

"And you? You don't want a piece of me?"

"What would I do with you? I have everything I want in life. I'm a daywalking immortal, with more money than I can ever spend, all the freedom anyone in the world could possibly have, and people who love me. Trust me, I'm happy with my lot."

Sookie tried to learn more about Theodora's past, like what the hell the Fountain of Youth was and how she managed to find it, but the other woman artfully dodged those questions. Instead, she started asking Sookie about her family, the human side of it, at least. Sookie found herself delving into her ill-fated romance with Bill. It was cathartic, actually, ranting to someone who didn't know Bill personally. Theodora simply let her go on and on, and handed her a tissue when she needed it. "You know what?" said the telepath when she was finished. "I'm ready to move on. When this is all over, I'm leaving all of this vampire shit behind. I'm going to live a normal life with living people and I'm not going to hear about kings and queens, unless they're from England or something."

"I think we all want that," said Theodora, "but to be realistic, Sookie, this is going to be part of your life from now on. You're royalty. That's something you can't escape."

"That sucks," said Sookie.

"It does," Theodora agreed, "but being royalty has its perks, if you allow people to treat you like the princess you are."

"So you're going to teach me how to be a princess now, like Anne Hathaway in the _Princess Diaries _or something?"

"That's modern commercialized Disney royalty." Theodora gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Being royalty means being loved, feared and revered. You must know how to manipulate others and how not to be manipulated by others. Above all, you must know about everything that's going on around you and know who you can trust and who you can't."

"I think I failed that last part," said Sookie frankly.

"You're still very new at this, Sookie," said Theodora. "To be quite honest with you, I think you're disadvantaged, because your gift means that you've never had to practise reading body language and slight nuances that allow you to detect what others are thinking without using telepathy. However, never fear. By the time we're through with you, you'll be more than competent. You just have to stay alive until then, sweetheart."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Like they say, it's easier said than done." Theodora patted Sookie's hand. "That's why I'm here. More tea?"

* * *

What the hell had happened to Sookie's house? The last time he'd been here, which had been, what, a week and a half ago, the place had been a wreck, and now the house looked as if nothing had ever happened to it. As he stopped his bike, he felt a hum radiating off the house, similar to what he'd felt when he'd come into contact with the 'shield' outside Russell Edgington's mansion, but different. He didn't know how to describe it. He parked the bike outside and went up the porch. Sookie was in the house, with someone else who was not Marie. He could hear them talking. It didn't sound malicious, so he wasn't too worried. He rapped on the door. Immediately, conversation ceased. The door flew open, and before him stood a tiny woman —girl?— who was definitely not Sookie.

"Gabriel?" she said when she saw him.

"Why does everyone think I'm Gabriel Van Helsing?" said Logan. "Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"Theodora Evelyn, Miss Stackhouse's bodyguard. You're obviously not Gabriel Van Helsing, so who the hell are you?"

"Logan?" said Sookie as she came up behind Theodora. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"My bike's fast," said Logan with a shrug.

"You know him?" asked the other woman.

"Sure," said the telepath. "He's my friend. Come on in, Logan. I'm just about to make a late dinner." He gratefully stepped into the house. It was old, but it was Sookie's pride and joy and she kept it as clean and well-presented as she possibly could. The furniture could use some reupholstering, and the wood had some scratches on it, but each of those scratches told their own stories. Her house had character, unlike those show homes, which were nice, but cold. It wasn't often that he was in a house that was as old as him, and with just as much of a history.

As Sookie puttered about the kitchen —having declined help from both her guests because she was a perfectly raised southern girl who took pride in being a great hostess— Logan found himself trying to make conversation with Sookie's bodyguard. It didn't hurt to try and be friendly. "So...you do this kind of thing much?" he asked, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at her. Molson's. Sookie had remembered his favourite brand.

"Guard someone?" said Theodora. "No. Usually, I investigate, dig up people's sordid history and display their dirty laundry, that kind of thing."

"So why would Northman get you to guard Sookie?"

"Because I fit the criteria. You don't exactly need a degree to be a bodyguard." Well, he couldn't argue with that. His stomach growled as he caught the scents of cooking food coming from the kitchen. He did like a bit of southern fried chicken. KFC just wasn't the same. Once, he'd gotten feathers in his fried chicken wings. _Feathers. _He had to say, battered feathers just weren't his type of thing. The shafts were really hard and sharp.

Marie got home at ten minutes to ten, accompanied by a large man whose size rivalled Logan's. The girl's face was a bit tense, and there were shadows under her eyes —he was going to have to talk to Northman about overworking her— but her face lit up when she saw the Wolverine. She flung her arms around him. He returned the hug. For someone who'd been shot at recently, she didn't look too bad. He wasn't that fond of her work clothes though. They looked...cheap.

"Miss me?" he asked when she finally released him.

"Not really," she said playfully. He grinned. That was their standard greeting. His grin faded when he turned his eyes to the man shadowing Marie, most likely her bodyguard. Hell, why hadn't Northman just called _him_ instead? He'd have made a much better guard. After all, he was just about indestructible. Marie had noticed the staring match that the two men were having. "Oh, um...this is John Quinn, my bodyguard."

One by one, introductions were made, and Logan noticed that Sookie was eyeing Marie's bodyguard quite a bit. He supposed the man could be considered attractive, by a woman's standards. Certainly _he_ was no judge of what a woman could possibly want in a man; the only thing he knew was that he was considered very attractive, and he was quite proud of that. The guy had huge muscles, like a bodybuilder, and he was completely bald. His eyes were purple, like pansies. That idea almost made Logan snigger out loud.

The Wolverine had also noticed that Theodora Evelyn had been eyeing him, although in a totally analytical way, the way Storm would sometimes look at him if she thought he'd done something that he shouldn't have, like give beer to the kids or take them out places at night after the curfew —hey, it had been Christmas!

Logan ignored her and began interrogating this Quinn character, asking him about his job (he was an events planner who catered specifically to supes—not soups), his family (he had a mother and sister), his background (he was born in Oregon but grew up in Nevada; his father had left when he'd been a kid and he hadn't gone to college) and what his views were on mutants (he had no problem with them, he supposed, although he'd never met one before). Satisfied that he was _not _going to secretly kidnap Marie and hand her over to some secret underground government operation to use as a lab rat or something, he ended his stint as an inquisitor.

* * *

The others were setting up camp beds and making sleeping arrangements in the living room. Sookie could hear them over the roaring of the faucet as she ran water over the dishes to rinse the soap off them. Marie had offered to help, but Sookie had insisted that she go and get off her feet. She'd done enough running around lately, and she'd lost a bit of weight. Now, Sookie would have liked to lose some pounds too, but she wouldn't have chosen to lose weight because she was overworked.

"Can I do anything to help?" came a rumbling voice behind her, almost making her drop the cup in her hand. Quinn dived for it and caught it just before it hit the floor.

"Nice catch," said Sookie as he handed it back to her.

"I was lucky," said Quinn. "You rinse. I'll dry."

"You don't have to do this, you know," said Sookie.

"I know, but I want to," said Quinn. "I haven't done anything so normal with other people for a while."

"Me neither," said Sookie. "Associating with vampires doesn't really support a normal life." She handed Quinn a plate and went onto the large baking tray which she'd used for the biscuits.

"Tell me about it," said Quinn with a snort. "How did you get involved? I mean, you're a nice regular girl, not like those fangbangers."

"I dated a vampire, for a while," said Sookie hesitantly. "He was the first guy I'd ever dated seriously, and I was really crazy about him." Once she'd started the words poured out. She wasn't as angry now. Talking to Theodora had helped her get the anger out. Now she was just sad. Quinn was a very good listener and he seemed genuinely interested in her welfare.

"Babe, you're lucky he was so bad at his job," said Quinn when she'd finished. "I've heard things about the vamps in New Orleans, and they weren't pleasant."

"I think I caught that, when they came down to Bon Temps to get me," said Sookie. "But I suppose it was a good thing they did come, or else I might have never known about Bill and his secret agenda. Sometimes, I wish vampire minds weren't silent."

"So you really can read minds?" said Quinn.

"That's what I said," said the telepath. "You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Me?" said Quinn with a short laugh. "Babe, I'm the last person in the world who has any right to call someone a freak."

"Why is that?"

Quinn hesitated. "I don't really feel comfortable talking about this," he began slowly, "but since you've shared your secret, it's only fair that I share mine."

"I'm listening."

"I'm a were-tiger."

"You mean you turn into a tiger? That's awesome. And here I thought there were only werewolves and shifters."

"Oh, no. There are all kinds of weres. Were-panthers, were-owls..."

"Were-guinea pigs?"

"Possibly, although I've never met one. I'd feel real sorry for the guy, though."

* * *

The days passed by in a blur. Marie was no longer the cashier at Fangtasia, although she did occasionally help the new girl to adjust. Eric had hired her two days after the shooting because he felt he was overworking the mutant. She hadn't disagreed with him. It was hard, trying to juggle being a public relations person _and_ a cashier at the same time. Technically, she didn't have to pop into Fangtasia every night, but she liked giving her daily report in person. One, Pam and Eric's reactions could be highly amusing, and she...well, she had to admit that she wanted to see Eric. To be quite honest, he seemed to have started paying _more_ attention to her after she'd thrown down that gauntlet. Maybe it was because she wasn't throwing herself at his feet like...half the patrons at Fangtasia. He'd even taken to ignoring Yvetta —who was developing some irritating clingy traits, and boasting that she was in a relationship with the boss when she was alone with the other human employees— when she tried to seduce him.

Apparently, the humans were the only ones aware of the rumour Yvetta was spreading, because both Eric and Pam had stared at her as if she'd grown a beard when she mentioned it. "In a _relationship_?" said Eric. "With Yvetta? Come now, Marie. You must know I have standards."

"_I_ never thought it was true," she said. "But some of the waitresses have been getting depressed, and Yvetta seems to think it's true."

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment. "Pam, you know what to do," he said. Without a word, Pam turned on her heel and strode out of Eric's office to go and glamour Yvetta, although not before winking at Marie. Had Pam picked up on the...erm...tension between her and Eric too? Oh, wait. Pam could probably smell it. Damn sensitive vampire noses.

"What time do you leave tomorrow night?" Eric asked suddenly, catching her off-guard.

"Eleven," she said, after she'd recovered. "Queen Sybille is sending her private jet down. I think she wants to court us."

"Of course she does," said Eric. He turned back to his papers, and only nodded, without looking up from them, when she told him she was going home. What she did not notice was that once she'd gone, he sat back and did away with all pretences of doing paperwork, a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

The scent of jet fuel, exhaust fumes and stale cigarette smoke assailed her nostrils. The private jet from New York was waiting. It was not a huge aircraft, but for a plane that was supposed to carry a dozen people at the most, it was gargantuan. There were no markings on the plane's body to indicate that it belonged to a vampire queen. Instead, painted discreetly on the tail were the words 'Sancta Terra Pharmaceuticals'.

"You comin', Marie?" asked Sookie as she climbed up the steps. Logan was already inside, no doubt interrogating the pilot about the plane's safety measures. He was paranoid about flying.

"Just a moment," said Marie distractedly, shouting to be heard above the noise of roaring engines and the beeping of those little carts that airport workers drove. She was waiting for someone. He hadn't said that he would come, but she was hoping that he would, even though she knew he was busy, now that he was both Sheriff and Regent.

"Looking for me?" came a voice behind her, making her jump.

"How did you know?" she asked as she turned around to see Eric towering over her, looking absolutely dashing and drool-worthy in a leather jacket, Fangtasia t-shirt, and dark wash jeans that hugged him perfectly. Maybe too perfectly.

"I can sense what you feel, and even if I couldn't, I would know," he said. He pulled out a piece of folded paper from his jacket pocket. "Pam's shopping list. Put it on the company credit card."

"Sure thing," said Marie. "You didn't come all the way to the airport to give me a shopping list, did you?"

"Of course not," said Eric. "I came to give you this." His lips and her lips met. She opened her mouth, eager and more than ready for him. Her body seemed to mould easily against his as she pressed herself against him, her gloved fingers tangled in his hair.

Somehow, by just kissing her, he could send jolts of fire shooting down to the soles of her feet. One of his hands held her head, whilst the other was on the small of her back, touching the exposed skin between the bottom of her t-shirt and the waistband of her jeans. They only pulled apart when she felt the need to breathe. "That was..." she began breathlessly.

"A reminder of what you'll be missing and incentive to come back," said Eric.

As Marie tried to think of a proper response, he winked at her and then flew off into the night, saving her from having to reply. In a daze, she boarded the plane and mindlessly strapped herself into the very comfortable seat upholstered with buttery leather. All she could think about was that kiss, and Eric's blue blue eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **Phew! That was long. It's more of a transitional chapter, I know, but characters needed to be introduced. I have plans for Eric and Marie, and snow and mistletoe, not to mention the lawyer Sybille is hiring for Eric. That will be fun. :)

I was doing some research for an original novel I'm writing, and I came across an interesting bit of information about Balian of Ibelin and Maria Comnena, stating that they actually had a fifth child, a daughter, who was captured by the Muslims and enslaved. That's how Theodora came into existence.


	34. New York, New York!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 34: New York, New York! **

"The AVL is going to prosecute you for two counts of treason and one count of blood trade," said Theodora. "They've already communicated this to the High Council. I still can't believe you actually agreed to sell Sophie-Ann's blood. What were you _thinking_, Viking, or were you simply _not_ thinking?"

"She was my queen," said Eric, not looking up from his balance sheets. "I had no choice."

"Why did you even help her ascend the throne in the first place?" demanded the ex-vampire. "You could have been king, and you'd have made a much better monarch, as you are proving right now, since you are king in all but name."

"I wouldn't be doing this if I had any other choice," said Eric. "You know I don't like the responsibility, same as you. Do you know who the presiding judge will be?"

"The world is in an uproar at the moment," said Theodora. "There is anti-vampire legislature being passed all over the place. You know, in Britain, they just passed a law that stated vampires couldn't own more than one million pounds in property. Just as well I'm listed as 'human'."

"Get to the point, please."

"The point is, no one can spare any time to preside in a trial of some sheriff they've never even heard of, so it will probably fall to the Ancient Pythoness, or hell, it could even be me."

"That's a good thing, for me, at least, if you ended up as the judge."

"Don't be so sure, North Man. I know how to do my job. I do it well. I won't go easy on you just because you saved me from myself. The law is the law. There's no way around it, no matter how much I wish there was."

"And what will happen if I am found guilty?"

"I don't even want to think about that. Even if you got charged with one of the crimes, the penalty would still be final death, according to the law, unless your lawyer can find some way to twist things around so that it could seem that you committed treason for the greater good, or some higher power decides that these are extraordinary circumstances, in which case they might let you bypass the law."

"Then I suppose it's a very good thing that your stepsister has found the perfect lawyer for me, isn't it?" said Eric.

"I hope you're still as optimistic when you meet him," Theodora said, causing Eric to glance up and raise his eyebrow.

"In fact, I am meeting him soon," he said. "If there is anything you feel I should know beforehand, please, don't hesitate to say it."

"Oh no, Viking," said Theodora. "I'm not ruining my sister's surprise for you."

* * *

Halfway through the flight and one delicious meal later, Marie finally recovered enough to unfold the paper that Eric had given her. It was Pam's shopping list, and she was wondering what else the female vampire could possibly want in the way of designer clothes. Of course, there were the new collections, but she was quite certain that they weren't coming out until next year. Something fell out when she unfolded the paper. It was a cheque for five thousand dollars, signed by Eric, and labelled 'Bonus'. She gaped. A five thousand dollar bonus was...well, huge. She just couldn't accept it.

The plane allowed for cell phone usage, and she quickly dialled Eric's phone. He'd programmed his number onto her speed dial. He picked up on the first ring. "Missing me already?" he asked, almost purring.

"Eric, I can't accept that cheque," she said. "I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but it's just too much."

"Marie, you deserve a bonus after all that you've done and all that you've been through," he said with a sigh.

"Eric, you pay me for my job, remember? They're called wages."

"You got shot because of your association with me."

"And then you paid to hire both my cousin and me a bodyguard. Plus you paid my health insurance."

"Then accept it as a Yule gift."

"Five thousand dollars is still too much, Eric. It just wouldn't be right."

"So you accept the principle of it and now we're haggling over price. So, tell me, what would be an appropriate Yule gift?"

"Christmas presents are supposed to be things like chocolate or a book, or something along those lines. You know, personal and sentimental." She chose to ignore the six packs of beer that Logan had tried to give out during Christmas one year because he'd left his Christmas shopping too late.

"Personal...such as lingerie?"

"Eric! You are _not_ buying me underwear!" From his place at the plane's bar, Logan looked up in alarm, his shot glass halfway to his mouth. She waved to him to let him know that everything was okay. He raised an eyebrow.

Eric laughed on the other end. Oh, he was being bad and he knew it. "It would be a treat for me as well," he said slowly.

"Mr. Northman, I do not believe I am quite high enough to allow for that type of talk."

"Pity. Is there no bar on that plane?"

"There is, but I'm underage."

"Ah, you are such a good girl, my little daywalker. Perhaps I have not had enough time to corrupt you yet."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance, Mr. Northman."

"So you will not accept the cheque?"

"I really do appreciate the sentiment, Eric, but it simply wouldn't be right."

"I suppose I shall have to find something else to give you, then. Enjoy the rest of the flight, Miss D'Ancanto. I expect to hear from you again soon, or perhaps you'll hear from me." He hung up. Eric Northman had many strengths; goodbyes was not one of them.

* * *

_This_ was a school? It was unlike any school Sookie had ever seen, with sprawling gardens, winding hedge mazes and horse paddocks. The mansion looked to be Victorian, with ivy snaking up the stone walls and framing the windows. She thought it was one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen. It was even better than Queen Sophie-Ann's palace, because this place exuded a sort of gentle hospitality that the palace had lacked. No one was lurking within waiting to bite her or something. This was a nurturing place where people lived in peace, unless it got attacked by government secret services, like that time.

The bus stopped outside of the gate. Mystique, the driver, reached out and punched a code into the keypad and then scanned her thumbprint and her iris before the gate opened for her. She parked the bus in the huge underground garage filled with some of the shiniest cars Sookie had ever seen. Logan rolled his bike off the bus and parked it next to an electric blue Honda. That had to be his car. Next to it was a corvette that looked just like Eric's, except in yellow. There was even something that looked like an army humvee.

"Welcome to my world, kid," said the Wolverine with a grin. Sookie could only look around in awe. The garage was larger than Merlotte's _and_ the parking lot. How big was this place, exactly? With no effort at all, Logan picked up their bags. Mystique had already gone inside, after having transformed into her blonde form, with her hair pinned up and a perfectly respectable pantsuit. Public nudity, apparently, was not tolerated inside the school. It was good to know that there were rules.

The walls inside were made of maple panelling. Lamps protruded from the walls to light up long windowless corridors. There were a series of closed doors all along the corridors. These were the classrooms. Logan showed them the kitchen, the common room, the dining room, and his favourite place indoors, the den. It had a forty-eight inch flat screen television suspended on the wall, and bean bags were strewn everywhere. Student dorms were on the second level. Staff, members of the X-Men and guests lived on the third floor. The newly added vampire room was in the basement.

Sookie was given a room with a balcony which overlooked the basketball court. Apparently, Jason had stayed here too. Marie's room was right next door, and the two of them shared a bathroom, which was situated between their two rooms. It was better than the Hotel Carmilla in Dallas, not because it was more luxurious, but because it felt homey. She'd just finished unpacking when there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find Charles Xavier. They'd only spoken once or twice, but he'd expressed the desire to help her gain more control over her powers.

"I hope everything is to your liking, Miss Stackhouse," he said, the tone of his voice not matching his appearance at all. Although he'd had a haircut, and he was dressed in a suit, he still had the face of a young man who hadn't had the best life. She knew that this was not his real body, and that only made it weirder.

"Oh, everything is really lovely, thank you," said Sookie. "You have a beautiful house, Mr. Xavier, and I'm really grateful that you let me stay."

"You are most welcome, Miss Stackhouse," said Xavier.

"Please, call me Sookie," she said.

"Then you must call me Charles," he said in return.

"All right, then, Charles. Is there anything I can do for you today?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk about your abilities," said Charles. "And then, perhaps...I want to test them to see their fullest extent. I do not believe you have used them to the fullest yet, Sookie."

"I try to respect other people's privacy," said Sookie defensively.

"Do you always manage to keep out of their heads?" asked Charles.

"Not really," the younger telepath admitted. "It's hard. Some people are really loud 'broadcasters', if you know what I mean."

"I do understand, Sookie," said the man. He was so kind that Sookie felt she could confide in him. The fact that she couldn't read his mind at all was a bonus. "It can be quite difficult sometimes, but that is why I urged you to come. I can help you."

Over the course of the next couple of days, Charles taught Sookie to build stronger shields and to cast her thoughts further so she could read who she wanted to read and ignore those she didn't. Having a mentor helped. Charles really knew what he was doing, and he was an excellent teacher. He helped her through some really frustrating spots, encouraged her to go on when she was about to give up. She learned more in these few days than she'd ever learned in her entire life about her powers. "You have excellent control for someone with so little training," Charles said to her, and that made her beam. Now, Sookie wasn't a vain person, but being praised by one such as Charles Xavier made her feel quite proud of what she'd achieved.

As her telepathic capabilities developed, her telekinesis began to emerge. At first, it happened when she'd been concentrating on blocking Charles' thoughts when he was broadcasting loudly. She'd been staring at his desk, and on one pen in particular, to help her focus. She felt a heat behind her eyes, and suddenly, the pen levitated into the air. She was so surprised that her shields came tumbling down, and it was a good thing Charles was such an expert, because he sensed what was going on and was immediately able to stop broadcasting, just like turning off a switch. The pen fell back onto the desk.

"Did I just..." began Sookie.

"You did," said Charles. "I'd expected this to happen, but not so soon. However, I believe your supernatural heritage has enhanced your mutation somewhat."

"Can all telepaths do this?" asked Sookie.

"Telekinesis? Most, except for the very weakest telepaths. Telekinesis is closely linked to telepathy; they both involve extraordinary strength of the mind. Try focusing on the pen again, and see if you can lift it on purpose."

She failed at first, but urged on by Charles, she tried again and again. Within thirty minutes, she could make it roll and rattle. By the end of their two hour session, she could lift the pen and set it back down again. Sookie was very pleased with her progress. For the first time since she'd learned about Bill's betrayal, she felt strong again. Her newfound powers had restored some of her previous confidence and sense of independence. Perhaps Theodora was right. She _could_ do this whole mutant human faerie hybrid princess thing. She just had to put in a lot of effort.

The telepath began to practise on other objects, besides the pen. She started on things that wouldn't break so easily, like an eraser, a pillow, her toothbrush. She did have an accident when she attempted to squeeze toothpaste onto her toothbrush using only telekinesis. She'd focused too hard, and she'd squirted the entire tube's contents on the bathroom mirror. That had not been pretty. She also found that if she concentrated _very _hard, to the point where she almost gave herself a migraine, she could interfere with radio waves and wireless signals. That had happened during one of Logan's beloved hockey games. The Wolverine had not been amused. The kids, on the other hand, had thought it pretty funny. Apparently, Logan's hockey games were next to sacred in the school. No one was supposed to disturb him when he was watching them. He'd defensively stated that he was Canadian, and therefore hockey was a religion, not a sport. Sookie had then pointed out that Logan was not religious. Honestly, he was as bad as Jason on football nights. Still, she'd made a note not to do that again. Logan deserved his little guilty pleasures.

The kids surprised her. Many of them were wise beyond their years. A lot of them had run away from home after their mutations had manifested, much like Marie. Some had been sent to the school by their parents, as a means to put them away and hide them from a world that did not accept those who were different. Some had lied to their parents about the school; to this day, their parents still had no idea that the school was one for mutants.

She wondered what would have happened if her parents had known about this school and sent her here instead of leaving her to figure out things on her own. What would she have been like? Would she have been a college graduate by now? If she had been able to control her abilities, she definitely would have considered tertiary education. One could hardly go anywhere without a degree these days.

* * *

It was called the Danger Room for a reason. Sookie's lungs were burning as she leapt to avoid yet another jet of fire the futuristic robot shot at her. "Over here!" Bobby called, beckoning madly to her from behind an overturned truck. All around her, cars were exploding and shrapnel was flying everywhere. Was it even possible to get to where Bobby was without getting shot? Sookie hesitated, and then summoned a burst of energy and dashed over to where the Iceman was. A piece of car door flew towards her. She lifted her hands and felt the heat behind her eyes going down her arms and shooting out from her fingertips. There was a flash of blue light as she blew the car door backwards.

"How do we destroy this thing?" she screamed above the din of battle. So much for a holiday. This was hell.

"Team work!" replied Bobby.

The robot shot another jet of flame, this time at Logan, who was trying to light his cigar from a burning car. Only he would do that. Storm threw Logan out of the way with a blast of wind. He fell, rolled, slapped the ground and got back to his feet, cigar still clenched between his teeth. This time, when the robot breathed fire again, Bobby was ready. The stream of ice shooting from his hands put out the fire, although it did nothing to deter the robot. It only made it angry.

At the same time, Marie dived for a piece of steel at the ground and thrust it into one of the joints in the robot's ankle, if robots could have ankles. In a human, even a giant one, this would have caused some damage. The robot only paused, but that was enough time for Piotr, better known as Tinman for obvious reasons, to throw Logan at the robot's head. There was an explosion, and smoke obscured both the robot and the Wolverine. Sookie screamed. Moments later, the robot's severed head fell to the ground and its body toppled over, with Logan still standing on its shoulder, the triumphant warrior.

The wreckage, the fire and the destruction disappeared, leaving them in an empty domed metal room, with wireless nodes taped to their heads. Sookie fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Her body ached from the exertion. "This is part of your curriculum?" she gasped. "What's the point of learning how to deal with giant robots like that? It's not as if it's ever going to happen in real life."

"It's an exercise to improve your reaction during times of crisis," explained Jubilee, holding out a hand to Sookie. The telepath took it. Jubilee hauled her to her feet. "If you over-train, then at least you'll know what to do when you encounter a less dire situation in real life. In these times, we're going to need the training."

"That was nothing, besides," said John, who preferred to be called Pyro. "It was one of the easier missions."

One of the easier missions, huh? And already she'd been bad enough at it. "I don't get how you can do it," she said. "It's insane."

"Practise makes perfect, Cous," said Marie. "And I'm out of practise."

"Pam loved midnight Danger Room sessions," mused Jubilee. "I think it took the edge off her anxiety."

"Yeah, well, that's Pam," Sookie wheezed. She still hadn't regained her breath yet. Forget weights and dumbbells. _This_ was the ultimate fitness training session. By the time she returned to Bon Temps, she'd have a body to rival those female athletes who ran marathons. She hoped. "No one ever said she was normal."

* * *

Pam was admiring the picture of her new shoes that Marie had just emailed to her. They were deep blue, and incredibly beautiful works of art. She'd been staring at them for the past five minutes, and she was still picking out new details about them. "Pam, those are hideous," said Eric when he caught a glimpse of the shoes. "Why would anyone want to wear them on their feet?"

"You are such a man, Eric," Pam drawled as she glanced up at him. Well, there had never been any doubt as to his masculinity, not even when he'd worn a kilt as a costume the Halloween before last. He'd worn it the traditional way, as in regimental, which was synonymous with going commando. "These are works of _art_."

"These are post-apocalyptic radioactive sea monsters," Eric stated definitively.

"They're still mine," said Pam. "You didn't come to my office just to tell me I have bad taste in footwear, did you?"

"I have to go to New York," said Eric.

"You have other daywalkers, surely," drawled Pam, swinging her rotating office chair around so that she was facing him. Oh, she did like teasing him about his infatuation for that girl.

"I am going to New York _City_ to meet with _Sibylla_ and my new lawyer."

"The antidote to the AVL's Cutler, sorry, _Lord_ Cutler Beckett?"

"That is what she is claiming."

"I have read a few of his court transcripts. Beckett will be hard to top."

"Sibylla seems confident that her choice of lawyer will fit the bill. I'm leaving you in charge of Fangtasia and of the Area. Theodora will be here to help, should you need any help, which I am certain you will not. And if you do want to mess around with my niece, be careful. Theodora is dangerous in her own way. There is a reason she's the investigator for the High Council."

"I'll be sure to play nicely, Master."

* * *

Buttery popcorn, diet coke, soppy romance movies —_Twilight _franchise included— and a whole bunch of girls lying in sleeping bags in front of a forty eight inch television screen; what could be a more perfect way to spend a cold winter's night? As she was watching Bella Swan act awkward around Edward Cullen, Marie's phone buzzed in the pocket of her fluffy pink dressing gown, indicating that she had a text message. It was from Eric.

'What are you doing now?' he wanted to know.

'Watching movies with the girls,' she texted back. 'You on throne duty?' He tended to text or message her during the times when he was sitting on the throne and 'enthralling the vermin', as Pam would put it so delicately.

'Dealing with vamp business,' came the reply. 'What movie?'

'Twilight.' As an afterthought, she added, 'Edward Cullen is hot.'

He sent her back a sad face, and then there were no more communications. Marie simply thought he had to get back to business, which was quite understandable. Honestly, thousand year old vampire sheriffs and regents had better things to do than text their very young daywalkers about the movies they're watching at a girls' slumber party.

Minutes passed. The onscreen vampires were playing baseball when Mystique popped her head into the Den. "Rogue," she said. "Special delivery from Shreveport for you." Sookie glanced up, confused. Marie was no more enlightened than she was. What sort of deliveryman would make a delivery at this hour, and in such weather? She pulled her robe more tightly about herself. The corridors were heated, but they weren't as warm as the Den, and if she was going to sign for a delivery, she was probably going to have to stand at the front door and brave the cold for a while.

When she saw the man standing outside, she gasped. "Eric?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the delivery," he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth. His hair was pressed flat against his head and icy water dripped from the end of his nose. Somehow, he still looked hot as hell. Edward Cullen had nothing on him. "May I?"

"Oh, yes, come in," said Marie. "You must be freezing."

"Vampires do not feel the cold as humans do," said Eric as he stepped over the threshold. She noticed that he was carrying a very business-like suitcase. "Besides, I lived in Scandinavia as a human. I like the snow."

"It's sleet," Marie pointed out. "And you flew in it. How did you get here so quickly?"

"I was in NYC meeting with Queen Sybille and the lawyer she got for me," said the vampire as she got clean towels for him from the cupboard in the hallway. "However, my lawyer was...delayed. Apparently, he was passed out drunk in Jamaica, and I thought I might as well pay my favourite allies a visit. It would only be polite."

"That must really give you a good feeling about your lawyer."

"Sybille assures me that he is the best."

By then, the girls in the Den had lost interest in the movie. Somehow, they'd found out that 'Rogue's vampire' from Shreveport was here, and everyone who hadn't seen him wanted a glimpse of the infamous Eric Northman. Completely aware of his audience and totally unabashed, Eric stripped off his soaking jacket and shirt and towelled himself dry. There were audible sighs and murmurs that the real thing was so much better than the fictional Edward.

From behind Eric, Marie waved frantically at them for them to be quiet and to _go_ _away_. They were having none of it. Jubilee winked and mouthed, 'Go' at her, whilst Kitty gave her the thumbs-up and giggled. Only Sookie wasn't smiling. The telepath had made her disapproval of her relationship with Eric quite clear. For some reason, Sookie had an irrational dislike for the blond vampire. The girls finally ducked back inside the den when Eric glanced up again. Sookie gave him one last lingering glower before disappearing along with the others, leaving Eric and Marie alone.

Marie led him to the kitchen, where she was almost certain they would have more privacy. The boys were in the common room, having an air hockey tournament. The most private place, of course, would be her bedroom, but she really didn't want to give Eric the wrong idea. He hung his shirt and jacket on the back of a chair before sitting down. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"A positive, if you have it," said Eric, sitting down at the table, still shirtless. His hair was tousled and still damp. It took a lot of willpower for her not to start kissing him right there and then. "I should probably meet the man who runs this place."

"The Professor and Miss Monroe are at a conference at the moment, but they should be back by tomorrow night," said Marie, as she bent down to get the bottled blood from the bottom shelf in the refrigerator. Royalty Blended? This was probably in case Queen Sybille, their possible new ally, decided to visit. All they really needed was the green light from Eric, and then they could sign a treaty with New York. She got one of the bottles and popped it in the microwave for thirty seconds. She put her thumb over the bottle's mouth and shook the blood to get rid of any cold spots before placing it in front of Eric. She was about to wash her hands when he caught her hand and slowly closed his lips around her bloodied digit. His tongue slowly moved over the pad of her thumb, where there were thousands of nerve endings, sending electricity shooting up her arm, to her spine, and down to her feet. God, how did he _do_ that?

"There's a camera up there, Rogue," said a third voice, interrupting her in mid-moan. "It doesn't record sound, but you're kinda directly in the frame and as they say, one picture is worth a thousand words."

"David!" said Rogue, quickly pulling her hand away from Eric and trying to compose herself as much as possible.

David, a rather small boy of eleven with thick glasses and who could interfere with radio signals and change television channels simply by blinking, held up his hands. "I'm just comin' in to get some soda," he said. "You might want to remember that this is a _school_, so it _might _be a good idea to keep it PG-13 when you're in the public areas. Just sayin'."

"Is that right?" said Eric. How the hell did he sound so calm after having been walked in on by an eleven year old?

"It's an unwritten school rule, which why Mr. Wolvie likes to keep his adult business outside of school grounds, if you get my meaning," said David with a shrug. God, that kid did _not_ know the meaning of embarrassment. "Hey, is your name _really_ Eric, or did you change it to make it sound more human before you guys all came out of the coffin?"

"That is my real name," said Eric with much amusement. He seemed to find it funny that a bespectacled eleven year old boy wasn't afraid of him. "You must remember that vampires were human, once, and we all had human names."

"Well, I suppose you _could_ have had a less vampirey name," David mused. "Like Bob. Or Bill."

Eric roared in laughter and did not stop sniggering until long after David had gone. "I must tell Compton that a child thought his name was not 'vampirey' enough," he said when he finally recovered. "Oh, that is priceless."

"Oh, come on, Eric," said Marie. "That's not very mature."

"Nobody said I had to be mature," said Eric, taking an appreciative sip of his bottled blood. "As they say, boys will always be boys. I wouldn't have survived this long if I had not maintained a more light-hearted outlook on life. Or unlife." He indicated that she should sit down before reaching down and withdrawing a box from his suitcase and pushing it across the table. "Open it," he urged. "You wouldn't accept my cheque, but I believe you will accept this."

Inside was small revolver, like the type that James Bond would hide on his person. "Oh, Eric..." she whispered.

"I remember you were quite handy with a gun, back in Dallas," he said. "I do not want you to be defenceless. I have asked Sybille to draw up the required documentation. She should have it to you by tomorrow.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by his gesture and his desire to keep her safe.

"Carry it with you," said Eric. "It won't be as good as me, of course, but it should do in a pinch." He sounded quite pleased with himself, and the blood had given his skin tone a livelier glow. "As I said, I would be unhappy if you came to harm."

"You said you would be displeased. I remember it quite clearly."

"Did I? Well, obviously, I meant to say unhappy."

"Just...how unhappy would you be, out of curiosity? Would you be unhappy because I'd be out of action, or unhappy because of something else?"

He set down the empty bottle of blood. "Marie," he said, all the playfulness gone from his voice. He sounded...uncomfortable and self-conscious. Eric Northman was _never_ self-conscious. "You know..." He trailed off, unable to find the words that he wanted to say. Perhaps he didn't even consciously know what he wanted to say. Instead, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. He let her feel what he felt. The intimacy of the act sent her heart rate soaring.

"Not here," she whispered.

"How long are you going to make me wait?" he asked, his voice husky with lust and desire. "I can sense what you are feeling, and I know what you want, and _you_ know what I want. What more is there to it?" That was a very valid question. What more did she need? But still, there was a part of her mind telling her no, that she ought to wait a little longer. How much longer? She didn't know. She had no answers for him.

When she didn't reply, he simply sighed and withdrew his hand. "Come to the city with me tomorrow night," he said, changing the subject. "I want your opinion, and your cousin's, when I meet my lawyer, and Sybille is interested in meeting you both."

* * *

"He can't just come and make us go to New York City with him," Sookie exclaimed the next morning when Marie relayed to her Eric's words from the night before. "We're here on holiday, which means no vampire shit."

"Sookie, please?" said Marie. "You know we're on the brink of signing a treaty with Queen Sybille, and she wants to meet us. Besides, I think this is important. Eric's always had a lawyer, and he's always been satisfied with his work. Why get a new one now?"

"I don't know," said Sookie.

"You don't know, or you don't care?"

"Maybe both. Listen, Marie, I know you care about him, but this isn't our fight, whatever this is."

"Sookie, that's where you're wrong. This _is_ our fight. The whole mutant vampire alliance was conceived so that we wouldn't end up in ghettos and concentration camps with numbers tattooed on our foreheads. That's already happening. My social security card has a big 'M' for mutant, as does my passport and driver's licence. It's like the yellow stars on the Jew's clothes during the Third Reich. We _need_ this alliance."

Sookie took a deep breath and let it out all in one go. "Fine," she said at last. "But I'm doing this for you, not for Eric."

"Thank you, Sook," said Marie as she squeezed her cousin's hand. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

* * *

Sybille Royale's palace was beautiful. On the outside, it resembled a commercial building. Unlike Sophie-Ann's residence, it was not decadent, but it was refined and elegant, with exotic touches such as oriental patterned mosaic walls in some rooms, and hanging tapestries in others. And unlike most vampire dwellings, it had windows. There was almost an overabundance of floor to ceiling glass. "It's a new technology developed by one of Her Majesty's laboratories," the female vampire leading them explained. Her name was Richilde, and she was one of the Queen's ladies in waiting. Yes, Queen Sybille had ladies in waiting, just like all the queens Sookie had read about in historical novels. "There are LCD crystals embedded within the glass which activate during the day, showing everything that is going on outside, in a three dimensional fashion, without actually letting any light from the outside in. Therefore one can technically see the day, even if it is not as good as the real thing. It is the best we vampires can do for now."

Good Lord! Just how rich was this queen? Sookie had seen the residences of three monarchs now, and this was by far the most superior. Eric must have caught her gaping and guessed what she was thinking from her body language —something she had yet to master— because he answered her question. "Russell Edgington was merely well-off. Sybille is...rich. Her gift allows her to predict stock market trends."

"She's a psychic?" asked Sookie.

"Only when it comes to the stock market."

They were led to an elegant French-style sitting room that was mostly decorated in off-white, with gold accents. There six people in there, but the queen took the limelight without really even meaning to. Or, perhaps she did mean to, but she was subtle about it. Sookie had seen the woman in fashion magazines, but she'd always assumed that she'd been photoshopped, just like every single one of the women in those magazines. However, the truth was that Sybille Royale had no need of Photoshop. In person, she was absolutely stunning. Her skin was milky and flawless, her grey eyes clear and sharp and her features were well-defined and quite symmetrical. Her cheekbones were so sharp they could cut glass. Her long dark hair had been coiled into a tidy chignon at the nape of her neck, and there was a platinum and diamond choker at her throat to emphasize the slimness of her neck. She wore very little else in the way of jewellery, except for a signet ring on the index finger of her right hand. The queen was slim, and she looked quite frail, even though Sookie knew she was anything but. Tonight, she was wearing a simple black floor length sheath in satin, and she was sipping from a champagne flute filled with blood. Ick. Well, at least she was drinking from a cup, and not directly from a human.

Sitting to her left was a rather exotic looking man with a braided beard and dreadlocks which had been tied back. He looked extremely out of place, although he was also quite dashing and elegant in his own way, with his red bandana, single gold earring, hair beads and a long black trench that he'd left open. He'd left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and he wore some really awesome swashbuckling boots that Sookie immediately coveted.

Sybille smiled benevolently when she saw them and rose to greet her guests, first Eric, kissing the air beside his cheek, and then the two young women.

"Miss Stackhouse," she said. "I have heard of you, and what I have heard has piqued my curiosity," she said.

"I'm flattered, Your Majesty," said Sookie, dipping an awkward curtsey.

"And Miss D'Ancanto," said Sybille, moving onto Marie. "I was quite impressed with your debate with that senator, Steve Newlin. For one so young, you certainly are quite opinionated." She bid them sit and make themselves comfortable, and then offered them drinks. Blood drawn from humans —with sterile syringes— who only ate organic food for the vampires, and a choice of grape juice, rum or Rosé for the humans. "In my country," she said once the drinks had been served, "to offer a cup is to offer protection. By accepting, you have accepted my protection, therefore none will harm you whilst you are within the boundaries of my kingdom. If they do, they face my wrath."

Sookie thought that was a nice custom, and she wondered who the queen had been before she'd been turned. She couldn't be more different from Sophie-Ann, not that it meant anything. Appearances could be deceiving, and she'd learned not to trust vampires, whose thoughts she couldn't read.

"You said my lawyer would be present, Your Majesty," said Eric as he took a sip of his blood. He savoured the mouthful and rolled it around in his mouth like a connoisseur tasting wine before swallowing it.

"He is here," said Sybille.

"That would be me, mate," said the exotic man with the bandanna and hair beads. He grinned at Eric, revealing a few gold teeth.

Sookie's rosé went down the wrong way and she nearly coughed it up through her nose; she was just so shocked. Who was this guy who dared to call a thousand year old vampire sheriff 'mate'? Either he was very brave, or very stupid. Or both. She cast out her thoughts and probed the man's mind. It was unbelievably jumbled and complicated; she caught a glimpse of sea turtles, monkeys, cannibals, rum, ships and cursed gold. What. The. _Hell_?

Eric was staring at the man with his mouth partly open. Apparently, the telepath wasn't the only one who'd been totally shocked. Wait..._this_ was Eric's new lawyer? Oh boy. Things were about to get very interesting, and not in a good way.

"Sheriff Northman, this is Captain Jack Sparrow," said Sybille.

* * *

**A/N: **Ta da! *Rubs hands in glee.* Eric won't know what hit him.


	35. With You

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognize.

**Chapter 35: With You**

"_This_ is my lawyer?" Eric asked incredulously, his eyes never leaving the human who stood before him. No _wonder _Theodora had refused to tell him anything. Were the sisters trying to kill him or something? "Did it ever occur to you that this is a _serious_ trial?"

"Yes," said Sybille. "And Jack is the lawyer you need."

"Let's face it, mate," said Sparrow. "I'm the brilliant Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? You should be flattered that I would even consider working for a _sheriff_. I only agreed to this because _you_, mate, own a _bar_, so the rum'll ne'er be gone."

Eric growled and took a menacing step towards the human. How dared he? Sybille stepped in between them before the vampire could do anything to her lawyer. "Eric," she said. "That's enough. I wouldn't have recommended Jack if he isn't the best and you know it. The only reason I called in this favour for you is because...never mind." What she had really meant to say was that she still felt something for him, despite her leaving him after four weeks of incredible sex, and his subsequent declaration of affection back in the fourteenth century. He'd been such a young and naive vampire back then, he was ashamed to say.

"He is a _madman_, Sibylla," he said, forgetting that she was the Queen of New York and he was merely a Sheriff, albeit a regent, of a much poorer kingdom.

"You've no idea how blurred the line between genius and madness is, mate," said Jack.

Sookie chose that moment to speak up. She had such great timing, this southern belle. "I don't see what's so genius about layin' an egg or seducin' a goat." His future lawyer laid an egg? That belonged in one of those immature songs young human males liked to sing

"Well...about that..." began Sparrow as all eyes turned to him. "Wait, how do you know, luvvie?"

"Just answer the question, buddy," said the telepath, who did not seem impressed that the lawyer was addressing her with a nickname already, despite the fact she seemed fine with the were-tiger calling her 'babe' —Theodora had told him. Women were strange. "We're still waiting to see the genius you say you have."

"Oh, come, Captain Sparrow," said Sybille. "Please do _not_ tell me that you have actually grown a sense of self-consciousness."

Here was another mystery. Why was the queen so friendly with this Jack Sparrow character? Were they lovers? No, Sybille never slept with the people she worked with. She said it made for too many complications that she didn't need. She hired other humans specifically for sex and drinking. They even had to sign contracts.

"Of course not!" said the man indignantly with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if _he_ were the queen. Actually, come to think of it, he might make a rather fine queen, with his mannerisms. "That is just a ridiculous notion." As an afterthought, he added, "Your Nibs."

"We're still waiting, _mate_," growled Eric.

"Well, if you must know, _that_ was in Davy Jones' Locker, and I wasn't meself, savvy?" He launched into a fantastical tale of how he got tricked by a 'charming murderess' —his friend's fiancée, to be exact— chained to a sinking ship, eaten by a kraken and then brought back to life by the friend and his fiancée, as well as some of his enemies. Not only had he laid an egg and seduced a goat whilst in this Locker, he'd also been followed by rocks and shot by himself over half a peanut. Eric had seen enough weird things in his life, but even he couldn't follow Jack's story. What did happen was that he started to look at the man in a new light. He'd died and come back to life. Not unlife, but as a real living breathing _immortal_ human being who had a direct line to a goddess. How did anyone manage that?

"And what about this woman, Anamaria?" asked Sookie. She seemed incensed about something. Eric was not interested in hearing about the lawyer's women. He looked like the type who could charm them, despite his diminutive stature —practically everyone looked short in comparison to Eric Northman— so for him, it wasn't even something worth mentioning. "You stole her boat twice."

"In my defence, I wasn't aware the dinghy was hers the second time I took it," said Jack, not the least bit ashamed. "And I didn't steal it. I _borrowed _it without permission but with every intention of returning it. It's a nautical term."

* * *

It took a bit of persuasion on her part, but Sybille managed to convince the mistrustful Viking that Jack Sparrow was really the only one who could help him win his case, or rather, cases. She'd known something like this would happen. Jack was, after all, not the usual calibre of lawyer. The pirate had other surprises up his sleeve, of course, but she thought it best to let him reveal his own secrets. She might know everything worth knowing in the supernatural world, but Jack Sparrow remained a total enigma to her. She only knew that he could argue his way out of hell if it took his fancy. That was all that a lawyer needed, really.

She was satisfied when Eric signed the contract, his pen flying over the paper so quickly that it would have been impossible for the human eye to follow. His hand dwarfed the fountain pen. Eric Northman dwarfed most things, she remembered fondly. He had been an excellent bed partner, whenever they actually had sex on a bed, which wasn't that often. The last time they'd done it, it had been in her throne room, _on_ her throne.

She observed his bent head. He'd changed, her Viking. A few years ago, he couldn't keep his hands off her, no matter how angry he'd been at her for leaving him. Last night, he'd refused her advances. Sybille put it down to the fact that he'd actually found someone he was interested in as a person, and not as a snack. Theodora had mentioned a girl. One of the very girls who had come with him tonight, in fact. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but then again, Eric Northman had never really cared for conventional beauty. No one could compare to Helen of Sparta, after all, and Eric had entertained _her_ for seven nights, only to part with her on good terms.

"Wonderful," said Jack, breaking the queen out of her thoughts. The contract had been signed. He was now officially Eric's lawyer. God, that made a funny image, especially Eric's expression. Too bad it wouldn't be proper regal behaviour if she had someone take a picture. "Now, Mr. Northman —subtle name, that— I shall come down on New Year's Eve, since I've heard you have quite the knack for throwing parties —I love parties— and I expect me rum to be ready, savvy?"

Sybille smiled. The Viking might not be happy now, but he would be happy after the trial. There was no way in the world Jack Sparrow would lose to Cutler Beckett.

* * *

Christmas season with the mutants was fun. It had been a while since Sookie had spent Christmas with so many kids. Actually, scratch that. She hadn't spent Christmas with so many kids since _she_'d been one of the kids. As an adult, the experience was decidedly different. She laughed as she pulled crackers with them. Mutant thoughts were generally easier to block, and her lessons with Charles had greatly enhanced her abilities. They had snow fights —Sookie's first real snow fight took place on the baseball pitch outside the mansion; in Bon Temps, there had never been enough snow to make real snowballs, but here, they could build entire fortresses out of snow— and rode horses in the white stuff. Despite being pretty much a country girl, the telepath had never learned to ride, although she found that she had some talent for it. The woods behind the mansion were nothing like _her_ woods, but they were peaceful. The serene silence, broken occasionally by the chatter of a bird or a snort from her horse, was the most beautiful thing Sookie had ever witnessed. She fancied that if she listened closely enough, she might be able to hear the spirits of the ancients, or perhaps even God.

Sookie closed her eyes and cast out her thoughts. There was no need to maintain her shields since she was completely alone, except for her horse. It might not have been the brightest idea, going out alone into the woods, since someone was gunning for her, but no one knew she was in New York, apart from people who wanted to protect her, so was there any point in being careful to the point of being paranoid?

"You are enjoying yourself, cousin?" asked a melodious voice, breaking through her reverie. Her eyes snapped open.

"Claudine?" said Sookie. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching out for you, dear Sookie," said the faerie with a half smile. This time, she was in a sleek white cropped fur coat, chocolate riding pants, and shiny leather riding boots in patented leather. Behind her was a dappled grey horse. Well, Sookie _thought _it was a horse until she looked closer and realized that the animal had wings and eyes that glowed like embers in the darkest of winter nights. The animal had no saddle, and its bridle was made of twisted silken rope. Claudine caught Sookie staring at the winged horse and her smile widened. She scratched the animal's forehead. It bowed its head. "This is Brith," she said. "He is my mount, and he chose me when I came of age. He's a Tulpar, or Pegasus, if you like."

"I thought they only existed in Greek myths," whispered Sookie.

"Tulpars come from that region, from Greece and Central Asia," said Claudine. "But they are rare in your world now, although they are relatively abundant in Tír na nÓg."

"Where?" asked Sookie. She dared not even try to pronounce the name.

"In English, it roughly means the 'Land of Youth'," said the faerie. "It is my home, and your home too. You've been there, once, with the Archangel. There are other names for it, if you find the Old Irish too difficult. Avalon is one name, or some people simply call it the Otherworld."

"Do all faeries ride these Tulpars?" asked Sookie. She could just imagine feeling the wind on her face and in her hair, and she thought it would be exhilarating.

"Only Sky Faeries and Wind Faeries," said Claudine. "Tulpars are creatures of the air. Water Fae prefer creatures such as sea dragons or, Gods forbid, what you humans call krakens." The faerie must have been deliberately projecting thoughts at Sookie, because the telepath caught an image of giant tentacles rising from the water to snatch a Tulpar, carrying a rider, out of the air. The image of tentacles looked eerily similar to another image of tentacles that she'd glimpsed inside someone else's head, only instead of snatching a Tulpar, those tentacles had been burned and wrapped around a ship.

"Claudine, this may come as a very odd question," said Sookie. "But do you know someone called Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow?" said Claudine. "I have heard of him. Why do you ask?"

"Well, he's going to be Eric Northman's lawyer, and Marie wants to know more about him because she has a thing for the vampire."

Claudine burst out laughing. "Oh my," she gasped, when she'd recovered enough to speak. "The Viking may be in for a shock, although I cannot think of a better lawyer. Cousin, if you really do want to know more about him, you should ask him. No one really knows about Jack Sparrow, perhaps with the exception of Calypso."

"Calypso? Who's that?"

"She is the goddess of the sea. The Water Fae have an uneasy alliance with her, so she is not our friend, although she is not an enemy either. Sky Fae and Water Fae do not get along with one another."

"Which one are you?"

"We Brigants are Sky Fae, although there has been a Wind Fae in the family."

"So...technically, I can ride a Tulpar, if I wanted to," said Sookie.

"Technically, although one would have to choose you first," said Claudine. "Perhaps when you next come to my realm, we will see if you are meant to become a Rider." The faerie swung onto Brith effortlessly, hooking her knees over his wings. "Goodbye for now, dear Cousin. I will not be far, but there are other things I must attend to now that I am in this realm. I will meet you when you are home again." Brith must have known his rider's intentions, because he took off with nary a sign from Claudine, his great wings sending snow flying off the boughs of the trees. Sookie watched the Tulpar and his rider disappear into the pale morning sky, wondering if anyone would see them and call in a UFO sighting.

* * *

The house was as tidy as they'd left it, if not more so. Theodora made for an excellent house sitter. She'd even prepared food so that they would have something to eat when they got back. On the dining table was a stack of unopened mail, mostly Christmas cards, brochures, and bills. Marie threw away the brochures, set the bills aside, and then began opening the cards. There was one from Alcide, with a friendly scrawled message inside, wishing them both a very happy and uneventful Christmas —hah! He would say that— and one from Bill, who'd sent the card from Peru. Marie wondered if she ought to let Sookie see. It was obvious that Bill was still head-over-heels in love with her, but he'd hurt her so badly. The last one was from Mississippi. Marie recognized the handwriting right away. She traced her hand over the script. How many times had she seen this writing on a school permission slip or a birthday card? The return address was still the same. Her parents hadn't moved.

Something made her take out her phone and dial a number that she knew off by heart. This was the Christmas season, and it was a time for family. She hadn't heard from her parents in years, and despite everything, she missed them.

The phone rang a couple of times before it was picked up. "Hello, D'Ancanto residence," said a woman's voice. "Valera speaking."

Upon hearing her mother's voice, a lump began to grow in Marie's throat. "Hi, Mom," she managed to say without sounding as if she was about to cry.

"Marie?" said her mother. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," she said, cracking a smile. "I just wanted to say hi, and Merry Christmas. How are you and Dad?"

"Fine," said her mother. "Marie, you have to stop going on TV and defending vampires."

"Mom—" Marie began, but her mother cut her off.

"No, you listen to me, young lady. The neighbours have been talking and pointing at us behind our backs. They've stopped letting me teach Sunday school because of you, do you understand?"

"Mom, please—" said Marie. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have given into childish fantasies and imagined that her parents would be any more accepting than they had been four years ago when her mutant powers had first manifested.

"Is that Marie?" came her father's voice in the background.

"Yes, Richard, it is," said her mother.

"Let me talk to her." There was a click, a bump and the sound of rustling. "You'd better have an explanation for this shameful behaviour, young lady."

"Dad!"

"Associating with vampires and defending them? I didn't raise my daughter to be such a perverted fangbanging whore!"

"Now, wait—" She could debate with Steve Newlin and his ilk just fine on television, but she seemed to have lost all her powers of speech when it came to her parents.

"Do you know how much your mother and I have gone through because of you? Do you? Do you know how ashamed we are, and how we can't even look people in the eye? We can almost forgive you for your mutation, because that's not something you can help, as evil as it is, but _this_? This behaviour is disgusting, and I hope you're ashamed of yourself, betraying the human race like that!"

She'd had enough. She wasn't going to take any more of this. Her inner Logan reared his head. He wanted to fight. And really, she should fight. She wasn't a confused little girl anymore. She was a woman who could hold her own with a bunch of grown bigots on live television. She was a woman who'd almost been killed because of ignorant hatred. She was a woman who _had_ killed to defend the people she cared about. "I'm not going to stop doing what I do," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "I believe in what I say, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. If there's anyone who should be ashamed, then it's you, because _you_ cast out your sixteen year old daughter just because she didn't turn out to be what you wanted. _You_ didn't file a missing person's report after I left. You never phoned me back after I arrived in New York and left you a message. Guess what? I think I'm better off for having run away. I don't need people like you to be part of my life. Bye, Dad, and tell Mom I said bye. You won't be hearing from me again."

She heard her father shouting on the other end and her mother screaming something at her as she took her phone away from her ear. The noise stopped when she pressed the end call button. Somehow, that one phone call had left her emotionally exhausted. She placed her phone on the table and pushed it around a bit. Some part of her wanted her parents to call her back. At least that would mean they cared at least a little, even if they hated her. Was she emotionally needy?

The sky outside grew dark. An hour had passed, and she knew she wasn't going to hear from them. Somehow, she felt strangely at peace, as if she had finished an unpleasant task and put it behind her. She was ready to move on. She would forever be grateful that her parents had brought her into this world, but she didn't need them anymore. She had a new family now; Logan, Sookie, Jason, Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby and, to some extent, even Pam and Eric. She wasn't alone.

The phone did ring, but it wasn't her parents. It was Pam. She had the night off, and she wanted to take Marie out to buy 'appropriate clothing' for tomorrow night. Some retail therapy sounded excellent.

* * *

The music thudded outside in the bar, just like any other night, except tonight, instead of wearing her usual attire of something leather, something see-through, and knee-high wedge boots, Marie had let Pam persuade —read: bully— her into a black sleeveless floor-length gown with a mandarin collar, thigh high slit, and a lace panel in the back that pretty much encompassed her entire back, ending just above her butt, and a pair of strappy platform stiletto cut out sandals, with no tights. "If anyone gropes your bare leg even if you're wearing a floor-length gown, they deserve to be zapped," the blonde vampire had said. She did not state her motive for dressing Marie up like a life-sized —and less than ideal— Barbie doll, but the mutant suspected something. Pam was, first and foremost, on her maker's side, but she was also sort of on Marie's side. The two interests weren't exactly mutually exclusive.

Fangtasia was packed full of fangbangers, casual patrons and tourists. Apparently, the New Year's Eve party was something of a huge event. It was either that, or the throngs of women there wanted to have Eric for their New Year's Kiss. The thought made her a bit jealous, and she quickly chastised herself for being ridiculous. Of _course_ they'd want to kiss him. He was a hell of a kisser, and he wasn't exactly taken yet. He might have continued to pursue her after she'd thrown down the gauntlet, but who knew if he was being serious, or if he just wanted the thrill of the chase and to taste what no man had ever tasted before?

She and Sookie had swapped bodyguards tonight. Quinn seemed to be getting a thing for the telepath, and Sookie was reciprocating. That, and Theodora wanted to dance the last night of the year away, and Merlotte's did not permit dancing. Marie had no problem seeing why Theodora wanted to dance. That woman was good. She put strength and grace behind her moves, timing it to the music perfectly and yet seeming completely spontaneous at the same time. She danced for the sake of dancing, not because she wanted to impress someone, and her passion was infectious. Patrons started buying more drinks, more souvenirs, and some of the fangbangers even managed to stop thinking about getting bitten for a moment and acted a little bit human. It was almost a miracle.

From his place at the bar, Jack Sparrow was cheering Theodora on. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Then again, he was getting a lot of free rum. Everyone had deduced early on that rum was one of Jack's favourite things. Theodora invited him to join her on stage. The man was definitely not sober, but he managed to make it there without falling flat on his face. In fact, there was some sort of bizarre naturalness in his drunken movements. Maybe that was because Jack Sparrow was simply not meant to be sober.

It was a lot of fun, watching Theodora dance with Jack. The two of them seemed familiar with one another. He began to do the tango with her, and boy, they were actually good together. That was, until he leaned in too close and she pushed him away because of his bad breath. Maybe she should suggest to Eric that they sell Fangtasia breath mints at the souvenir booth, or maybe Fangtasia mouthwash.

The atmosphere changed when the countdown started. _Ten! _The crowd began to grow anticipatory. _Nine! _The eyes of most of the women turned to Eric on his throne. _Eight!_ Eric stood. The women began to converge around him. _Seven!_ His eyes fell on Marie. _Six!_ The mutant got out from behind the souvenir booth._ Five_! The crowds parted for Eric. _Four!_ Jack charmed two fangbangers away, despite not being in possession of any fangs himself. _Three! _Yvetta blocked Eric's way and tried to latch onto him like a limpet. _Two!_ Eric pushed Yvetta out of his way. _One!_ The vampire stood before the mutant. Their eyes were locked. One corner of Eric's mouth went up.

As the clock struck twelve and the confetti was released, Eric bent down swiftly and pressed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted of their own accord and let his tongue slip inside. He stroked the ridges of her mouth, caressing her with his tongue. She responded, and she felt his delight in more ways than one. The claps and cheers around them didn't matter. He slowly pulled away when he figured that she needed to breathe. Her arms were still around his neck, and not once did she look away. "Happy New Year, Mr. Northman," she said, knowing he could hear her just fine above the din.

"It certainly has had a happy start," said Eric.

"Everyone's watching," she said, when he didn't let go of her. She hadn't let go of him either, but that was beside the point.

"Let them watch. I want them to know that you really are mine," he said.

"Am I?"

"Are you doubting me? You are mine, Marie D'Ancanto. My public relations manager, _my_ mutant, _my_ woman." There must be really something wrong with her, because instead of getting angry with his rather possessive declaration, she felt warmth spreading through her body and she was getting turned on by his caveman act. It wasn't just that he was saying she was his. It was the fact that out of all the women he could have chosen, he'd chosen her, for whatever the reason. That had to mean something, right?

Area business soon called him away to his office, and Marie went back to try and concentrate on the club's blog, but she could only think about Eric. That in itself was not a bad thing, but it wasn't exactly inspiring her to write things that were appropriate for publication on the internet. She was so lost in her fantasies, starring one Viking and herself, that she didn't notice she had company until it was too late.

Yvetta stood over her, a murderous expression on her face. "You stay away from him," she hissed, and before Marie could reply, the dancer had poured a bottle of synthetic blood over her head. The liquid ran down her face, her neck and onto her dress. Thank goodness her dress had a high neck, or else she'd have had blood in her cleavage.

Now, if one were a living breathing human being in a room full of vampires, it was never good to be covered in blood, synthetic or otherwise. Fangs dropped, and she really thought she was going to be in trouble. Theodora, however, was on top of her game. She might not have been as fast as a vampire or as strong, but she was definitely faster and stronger than a regular human. She leapt into action, pushing through the throngs of vampires and fangbangers and then seizing Yvetta by the hair —the ex-vampire neither played fairly nor played nice— and threw her in Pam's direction.

It was as if they'd choreographed it. Pam caught Yvetta. Marie didn't see any more. Theodora escorted her out of the club, and only stopped briefly outside Eric's office to tell him that she was taking the mutant home. He was concerned, and more than just a little angry, but the ex-vampire told him not to worry. He had better things to worry about, at any rate.

"I thought Pam glamoured Yvetta into forgetting that she thought she was involved with Eric," said Marie as Theodora hustled her into her cheerful yellow hybrid.

"Either Pam is not a very good glamourer, or there's something stopping that woman from being glamoured," said Theodora. "I suspect the latter."

"Mutants can't be glamoured. Do you think she's a mutant?"

"It's possible, but not the only possibility." Theodora started the car. Soon, they were pulling out of the parking lot and speeding towards Bon Temps. "Some humans cannot be glamoured, because they have such strong will, or they simply do not believe in glamour."

"What?" said Marie. "Does belief actually affect things?"

"You have no idea," said Theodora. "I know a woman who is so rational and scientific and logical that she can counter any magic simply because she does not believe in it. In effect, her belief has caused her to become anti-magic, like anti-matter to matter. That in itself is a very powerful magic, of course, but it negates all other magic, so magic simply does not work on her. Then there are Magi, Faeries, witches, warlocks, angels...the list goes on. They are too powerful to be glamoured."

"Somehow, I don't think Yvetta's an angel."

"No. More likely, she is one of the lesser supes, and I am determined to find out what."

The house was dark when they arrived. Sookie was probably still at work. Marie went straight upstairs to strip off her bloody clothes and take a shower. Thankfully, her gloves had been spared, and so had her shoes, but her dress desperately needed to go to the dry-cleaners. The blood had dried in her hair and on her face, making her very uncomfortable. She also looked like something out of a B-grade horror movie.

The blood washed out of her hair easily enough. After she was done, she slipped on her fluffy pink dressing gown. It was too bad that her night had been interrupted, because she had been enjoying it quite a bit. Nothing, not even a literal bloodbath, could really dampen her mood at the moment, although she was a bit worried about what Yvetta was.

She went to her bedroom, turned on the light, and then squeaked when she found that the room wasn't empty. Sitting on her bed was a familiar giant blond vampire. "Yvetta's been fired," he said. "I wanted to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine, really," she said. She wasn't wearing anything under her dressing gown, and she felt a little bit self-conscious. "But thanks."

"Why thank me?" he asked.

She went and sat beside him on the bed. "Because you care," she said, "and because you've been taking care of me even though you didn't need to. It means a lot to me." She raised her hand and cupped his face, turning it towards her. He didn't resist. She reached up and brushed her lips against his. "Eric, I want you."

"You are certain?"

"I've never been more certain. I want you."

His mouth, his hands; they were all over her in an instant. She felt his lust and his desire through their skin contact. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He became impatient and simply ripped it off. His trousers followed suit and then her dressing gown joined them. "I feel you, woman," he whispered. "I feel you so clearly." His skin was cool and smooth, like satin draped over sculpted marble. His hands traced the curves of her body gently, as if he was trying to memorize everything. She repaid the favour, allowing her fingers to wander over the contours of his muscles. She didn't need to think; this was instinct. It felt right. So right. Within his arms, she was protected. Nothing, not the hateful words of outsiders, nor the accusations of the ones who were meant to love her unconditionally, could touch her. She was safe, and she even felt beautiful.

She arched her back and pressed her body even closer to his, relishing in the contact and the intimacy. If, a year ago, someone had told her she would be doing this with a man, she'd have laughed, or maybe fallen into depression. "God!" she gasped. Who knew that she had so many nerves on her body, or that they were all interconnected? In principle, she understood, but to experience it all firsthand was something else entirely. The experience was indescribable by someone who'd never felt these sensations.

"You may be overestimating me, my lover, but you may worship me as you please," he said, amused by her reaction. His own reaction was quite pronounced too. She could feel him pressed against her thigh. Yep, everything Eric was in extra-large.

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, bringing his face down to hers.

"If you can say so many coherent things, then I must not be doing something right," he said before his tongue was inside her mouth again. Their bodies fit together as if they were meant to be, one warm and soft, one cold and hard. The differences didn't matter. All that really mattered was their mutual desire.

There was a 'pop' as he dropped his fangs. She slowly reached up to touch them. They were so perfectly formed and so sharp. She wasn't afraid. No, not at all. In fact... "Bite me, Eric," she whispered. "Bite me. I want some of me inside you, and I want you in me."

"In more ways than one?" he asked as he eased himself into position. She hooked one leg around his waist.

"In more ways than one." He didn't need another invitation before he started nuzzling her neck. The stubble on his chin scratched her skin, making it tingle. His lips were soft as he caressed her neck, just below her ear. She tilted her head to the side, giving him easy access. Then she felt his fangs. He ran them gently against her neck. His tongue licked her pulse. And then there was a tiny jolt of pain, not dissimilar to a static electricity shock on a hot dry summer's day, as his fangs pierced her skin. The pain was gone in an instant, replaced by waves of pleasure shooting down her body and travelling to all the extremities, as well as to the very core of her being. She felt as if she had so much life inside her that she would burst from everything she was feeling. She moaned his name and clung to him as he drank from her. Her fingernails dug crescents into his back, drawing tiny droplets of blood. He licked the two puncture marks on her neck closed when he finished, not wasting a single drop of her. Before she realized what was happening, he had opened up his own wrist.

"It's your turn, lover," he purred. She placed her lips over the two oozing wounds and sucked. This time was nothing like the first time she'd taken his blood. She wanted him to be part her. His blood tasted...well, it didn't taste the way blood usually tasted to a human being. It was almost sweet, and it was cool against her tongue. As she drank, he turned his attention elsewhere, making her feel things in parts of her body she hadn't even known had existed until tonight. He was insistent, yet gentle and patient, as he allowed her to adjust to him, letting her take as much time as she needed. She was not a big woman, but somehow it all worked out, as if evolution had meant for this specifically to happen between the two of them. Either it was that, or divine intervention.

"Look at me, lover," he rasped. "I want to see your eyes." She opened her eyes and became mesmerized by his blue ones. It was as if she was seeing him for the very first time. The passion, the openness, the way he was giving himself to her and claiming her for himself. This was not the bar owner who sat on a tacky throne enthralling the human masses. This was not the vampire sheriff who threatened queens and made deals with kings. This was the man behind all of those characters.

The climax was explosive. She could feel his pleasure as well as her own as they both reached the peak together. He roared, she screamed his name. Their minds clashed and their essences, physical and otherwise, mingled, until they became one in their passion.

"Gods, woman," he whispered as they lay on her very messy bed. He was tracing designs on her skin, as he always did in her dreams. Right now, his index finger was tracing his name on her breast. She was sore, but pleasantly so. "I've never had anything like that before."

"Not in a thousand years?" she asked, trying to keep the giddy delight out of her voice.

"Not in a thousand years. You are a natural."

She smiled, completely uninhibited, and said nothing. Instead, she stared at his face, memorizing his well defined jaw, his strong nose, that mouth, and those eyes. Yes, those eyes. They said that a man's eyes were windows into his soul.

"You are staring, lover," he said. "Why do you stare?"

"I am still trying to figure you out," she said. "You are a confusing man, Eric Northman. You are full of paradoxes, of contrasting values all juxtaposed together. You are hot, you are cold. You are kind and you are cruel. The only thing that is consistent is your fierceness. It's making me dizzy."

"Do you want to know why I am what I am?"

"Please. You promised to enlighten me."

"So I did." He shifted so that he was resting on his side, with his head propped up by his arm. His other hand rested on her waist. "A man in my place has two faces. One for the world, and one which he wears in private." She knew that line. She'd seen that film, and she wasn't surprised he'd seen it too. She waited with bated breath to see how he would finish it. He took her hand, brought it up to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on her palm, his lips lingering there and making her feel aroused again. "With you, I'll be only Eric."

* * *

She couldn't stand the crying. It was making her gnash her teeth together and she wanted to wring the neck of some small furry helpless animal. Still, she forced herself to stay calm. "Yvetta, please," she said. "You really didn't think he loved you, did you?"

The other woman sniffled and wiped her eyes with a dirty tissue. Her mascara had run and it was making her look as if she was a three day old corpse. "He preferred me, sister," she said. "I knew he did. If I had had a bit more time, he may even have proposed." Proposed? Hallow sighed. Her sister was so naive. She told her so.

"But Halley, I could sense it," Yvetta protested. "If it hadn't been for that bitch, I would have had him wrapped around my little finger and we'd have had his businesses. And I'd have had him. Honestly, I don't know what he sees in her. She is too pale and her calves are thick."

"But obviously, he prefers her over you," Hallow pointed out. "Or else he would not have picked her out of fifty other women and kissed her in front of everyone."

"It's not fair!" On the other side of the room, a test tube shattered; a result of Yvetta's anger and her subsequent lack of control on her powers.

"Calm yourself, sister," said Hallow. Yvetta was not the brightest one in the family. Having been the prettiest, their parents had indulged her. Hallow had no beauty to speak of. Her father often said she looked more like a man than a woman, and she'd had to work twice as hard as Yvetta to gain their approval, and no matter what she did, it was never good enough. So she'd studied hard. Magic made her feel confident, and she _knew_ she was good at it. "I have known from the beginning that your plan would never have worked. The Viking is not foolish enough to give his undead heart to any one woman. We will revert to the original plan. He will submit, one way or another."

* * *

**A/N: **Marie and Eric _finally_ reach the next step! The line about two faces comes from _Kingdom of Heaven_, one of my favourite movies of all time. Sybille, in her other incarnation, is in it. Now Yvetta is plotting against Eric. The Viking just can't catch a break, poor guy.

I'm wondering if I should bring in my favourite forensic anthropologist and FBI agent. It would be funny to see them interact with vampires, but I'm scared it might be too much. Opinions?


	36. Double, Double Toil and Trouble

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 36: Double, Double Toil and Trouble **

Theodora smiled to herself as she closed the door behind her. From the sounds of things, her young charge was going to be both safe and busy tonight, which was just as well, because she wanted to get back to her real job, which was investigating things in the supernatural world that should not be happening. Sure, she was actually supposed to be determining the magical composition of the eighth —and unnatural— vortex that Edgington had managed to construct in Mississippi, but that thing wasn't going anywhere. As long as she got the results back to Jerusalem by February, she would be fine.

Fangtasia was quiet and almost deserted when she arrived. Only a few cars remained in the parking lot; Eric's, Pam's, and Chow's. Pam was inside, calculating their earnings from tonight. Her fingers flew over the keys of the calculator. "I take it my maker has reached his destination?" she asked without looking up.

"Last I heard of him, he was having a great time," said Theodora. She wouldn't have expected any less. This was Eric, and the girl he was with wasn't exactly just a regular human female. "What do you know about Yvetta?"

"Her? She said she was a dancer from Estonia well-versed in many styles. I wasn't really paying much attention to what she was saying." Well, of course she hadn't been paying much attention. Typical Pam.

"I need to see her records," said Theodora. "And perhaps her locker, if she used one."

This made Pam look up. Her brows furrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here."

* * *

His arms were cool and solid around her body. She lay within them, her thoughts becoming hazy and surreal as she drifted off to sleep. He'd given her not one, but three climaxes tonight. He could have gone on, but she was completely exhausted and overwhelmed, so he simply held her to him, allowing his fingers to wander over her skin. She didn't know how long the two of them lay like that, just enjoying the contact and the company. Who knew Eric Northman liked to snuggle?

She could feel his emotions through their skin contact. He was content, she was content. "You smell of milk," he murmured against her shoulder, "like the daughter of a Turkic chieftain I once fed from."

"Mr. Northman, now is _not_ the time to talk about all the women you've been with," she said, twisting back so she could look him in the eye. He grinned.

"Jealous, my lover?"

"Irrationally so."

"I like it." He left a trail of soft kisses from her neck to the bottom of her shoulder blade, and then went lower, paying excruciating attention to every square inch of her. She moaned and reached down to grab him. He was excited again, and his lust, which she'd thought had been sated, no matter temporarily, was going at full throttle again, and it was influencing her too. Who knew? Perhaps she had it in her for one more round tonight. Maybe two. "Your cousin's going to be home soon," he murmured.

"Are you embarrassed to be found here?" she asked.

"I am Eric Northman, woman. There are only a few situations that would embarrass me. This is not one of them."

"I'm not embarrassed either." That earned her another kiss on the lips. A wonderful, tender kiss that made her decide that she wasn't that tired after all. She kissed him right back. God, he was a miracle. This time, he moved slowly, taking the time to savour her. It was as torturous as it was blissful. She wanted him and she wanted him right now!

"Patience, my lover," Eric crooned. "Good things come to those who wait." He brought her almost to the edge and then let the wave subside a little before starting over again. Each time, he brought her just a little closer until she was pleading with him. No, she wasn't above a little begging. When he finally took her there, she screamed his name so loudly that her voice echoed through the house, and she was pretty sure the old wooden frame of the house shook. Just as well they were alone, and their only neighbour was in Peru right now. She collapsed on top of him. Sweat covered her body. Eric's tongue darted out to lick a droplet of perspiration from between her breasts.

"I think I'm done for," she said in between gasps. Her stomach growled in response, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much tonight.

"You must eat, woman," he said. "You are getting far too skinny."

"It's not my fault that I don't have time to eat, what with all the running around town I do," she said playfully. She climbed off him and searched for her robe amongst the pile of tangled clothing on the floor. He watched her through half-closed eyes, enjoying the scenery. "Do you want a blood or something?"

"I've already eaten," he said, grinning at her.

"Am I supposed to believe a big vampire like you can be satisfied with just one mouthful?"

"I am very old, lover. I do not need much."

She tied the front of her robe, putting an end to his private showing. He sighed dramatically and sat up, running a hand through his now incredibly messy hair, which she was partially responsible for. She did like his hair. She also liked the treasure trail that started just below his navel and became darker downwards. And his abs, and his pecs. Oh, stuff it. She liked all of him, and he must have known it because he stretched unnecessarily, displaying all his assets in the best possible way.

"You are shameless," she said, picking up his jeans and throwing them at him. He caught them with one hand without making any effort at all.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of." Haha, he got _that_ right.

She felt a little bit rude, eating in front of a guest who couldn't join her, but he assured her that he was fine with it. He did seem a little bit suspicious of the green gunk, otherwise known as guacamole, that Theodora had made and left in the fridge. "That does not look appetizing," he said.

"It's avocado," said Marie as she poured chips onto a plate and spooned some of the guacamole onto the chips. "That's the way it looks, but it tastes fine." She popped a chip with some of the green dip on it into her mouth. It was pretty good guacamole too. Theodora loved eating and cooking, as she was still making up for a couple of centuries of a blood-only diet.

"Allow me," he said, taking a chip and holding it out. She let him feed her. When their skin made contact, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and he stared at her in wonder. "I can taste it..." he whispered. And then he kissed her. Afterwards, he made her taste all kinds of things that he'd never had the chance to eat as a human. In particular, he was very interested in oranges.

"My brother tells me they taste of the sun of the Levant," he said. "He says they are the taste of the east."

"I wouldn't know about that, but orange juice is pretty good," she said as she tried to pick the best orange out of Sookie's fruit bowl. He watched her as she squeezed each one systematically. "They shouldn't be too hard or too soft. Too hard means they're not ripe. Too soft means they're probably dried up and tasteless—Eric, I don't know what you're thinking about, but I'm betting it's not oranges."

"No, they are much too small," said Eric. His fangs were down. "Yours are more...grapefruit-sized."

"Are you going to make every fruit and vegetable in the world seem obscene?"

"I don't know if that's possible, but I can try."

* * *

Sookie was rather pleased with how tonight had turned out. It had been one of her nicer New Years, since she actually kissed someone she wanted to kiss. Quinn grinned at her as he opened the door for her. He was thinking of getting dessert, now that he'd had the entree, but instead of feeling annoyed with him, she actually wanted to get dessert _with_ him. Well, what could she say? She was a hot-blooded female with hormones and needs, and Quinn was just hot.

Her smile faded when she sensed that not all was right with the world. The overwhelming contentment, fading excitement and underlying lust that hummed like a harmony was enough to make her deeply suspicious. Oh, she wasn't worried about anyone's safety. There wasn't any physical danger here. However, she was worried about her young and naive cousin. She found Marie sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in an old blanket and reading a magazine. It would have seemed innocuous enough if her lips weren't swollen and if her face wasn't red from beard burn. Oh, and her thoughts weren't helping either. In one split second, Sookie had glimpsed more of Eric than she'd ever wanted to see. Well, she had been a little bit curious, but she hadn't wanted to find out this way.

"You didn't," said the telepath.

"Sookie! I didn't hear you," said Marie, dropping her magazine. "And hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to read people's minds without their permission?"

"I'm worried about you! Drastic times call for drastic actions."

"I don't see why you're so worked up about it, Cous," said the other girl defensively. "He's good to me, and I wanted him. The sentiment was mutual."

"Of _course_ you wanted him! He's Eric Northman!"

Quinn chose that moment to remind them that he was there. He cleared his throat. "I'll be in the other room if you need me," said the were-tiger uncomfortably before he quickly retreated, closing the French doors behind him in an attempt to block out as much of the impending conversation as he could. Admittedly, it wouldn't be very much, since he had sensitive hearing, but one had to give him credit for trying. Supe or not, there were certain traits that were shared by almost all males.

"I'm aware of who he is, Sook," said Marie. "I screamed his name a couple of times."

"God, Marie! You don't know what you're getting yourself into!"

"I know he's good to me, he likes me, he waited for me and he _chose_ me."

"That's what he wants you to believe."

"It's more than that. I know it." She was hiding something. Sookie knew it. The most frustrating part was that Marie's guards were now up. There was a downside to having a younger cousin who was accustomed to living with telepaths. "Sook, I know you don't trust him, but I do. He's saved my life even when he had no obligation to do so. He may have many flaws, but he also has virtues, and great number of them."

"If he really thinks of you as more than a conquest, then why did he leave you alone?"

"Theodora called and said it was urgent that he return to Fangtasia immediately. I told him to go. I can look after myself for all of fifteen minutes, despite what everyone thinks."

There was no arguing with Marie when she was in this sort of mood. For someone who was usually so soft-spoken, unless she was arguing with vampire-and-mutant-hating fanatics, she could be as stubborn as Logan. It probably wasn't a coincidence. Sookie sat down next to her cousin on the sofa. "I just don't want you to get hurt like I did."

"Bill is one vampire," said Marie. "He doesn't represent every vampire out there." Well, Sookie couldn't argue with that. For one, most vampires wouldn't be seen dead —har dee har har— in his chinos and polo shirts. Most of them would probably have done something about those awful bangs too. From what she knew, vampires could retain haircuts just like humans. She didn't know why. It was just one of those things. "And even if you don't trust Eric, you should at least trust my judgement. I haven't done too badly so far." It was true. After all, this was the girl who'd chosen to trust Logan the first time she'd ever met him. That had turned out pretty well. Of course, it could just be luck.

"Just be careful, all right, Cous?" she said with a sigh. "If you feel you need to walk away, then walk away. Don't try and cling on the way I did."

* * *

"Yvetta is a supe," said Theodora. "She is not very powerful, so I cannot identify exactly what she is, but what I'm most concerned about is why she was posing as a human stripper."

Eric could not believe he'd been called away for _this_. He'd have thought that there was a raid, at the very least. Instead, he'd been called away from his woman because of _Yvetta_? Theodora needed to sort out her priorities. The woman was spiteful and pumped full of Botox and collagen, with breasts that were more artificial than synthetic blood, but she was harmless; just another fangbanger, maybe with a little more brain. He said as much to Theodora, but the ex-vampire was not convinced.

"I _know_ what I sense, Eric," said his niece-of-sorts. "She's a supe —albeit not a powerful one— but where there's one, there's always more. Besides, she didn't have to pretend to be human if all she wanted was sex. I think she had an ulterior motive, and now she also has a personal vendetta."

"If she does anything to Marie, I'll end her," said Eric simply.

"Oh, I'm not worried about _Marie_," said Theodora. "She'll be fine. I'm worried about _you_."

* * *

"Do you think he will accept it?" Yvetta asked. She didn't know what her sister was really doing. Hallow's ways were always so confusing, not that the younger witch ever cared much about the method as long as she got the desired result.

"He is a businessman," said Hallow without opening her eyes. Power hummed around her. "If he knows what's good for him, he will take my offer, and you will have your undead hunk back."

"And if not?"

"If he's stupid enough to refuse, then I'll make sure it's one of the last things he ever does. No one will have him if you can't have him."

There was more to it, but Hallow didn't trust Yvetta. For so long, her younger sister had relied on her looks that her mind was a little rusty. There was more at stake than just the Nordic vampire and his businesses. The world was just entering into the greatest upheaval since the fall of Atlantis. The suspension of the American Vampire League and the death of one of the most powerful kings meant that everything was changing within North America. And then there were the cracks in the Wall and the new vortex in Mississippi. Hallow wanted to get ahead in the game.

* * *

Pam hadn't expected to see Yvetta ever again, yet here she was, sitting on the leather couch in Eric's office and looking incredibly smug —and also very cheap; no one had ever told her about the 'boobs or legs' rule, apparently, as she was showing so much of both that she might as well have just gone naked. Then again, she _was_ a pole dancer. One really couldn't expect too much class from someone like her. It was actually Yvetta's sister with the Compton-esque haircut who was doing the threatening. She wanted Eric to give her half his profits, or else she would ruin all his businesses until they were worth nothing. Eric wasn't buying it.

"You are either very stupid, or very...stupid," said her maker icily to the witch. Well, that was _one_ way to put it. "Do you really think that I would comply?"

"There are many jinxes that can bring an establishment such as this one to ruin," said Hallow evenly. Apparently, Yvetta and her sister were witches. Pam thought that explained a lot of things; she'd never thought much of witches. The ones she'd tasted had taken far too many hallucinogens; that made for very embarrassing episodes which one didn't really remember afterwards. Witches were all crazy, and they could be fucking dangerous. Why the hell did Theodora have to go to _Mexico_ at this juncture in time? That ex-vampire would have come in pretty useful right about now.

"Get out," said Eric, sounding bored. "There is no deal."

"You will change your mind," said Hallow as she stood.

An hour later, there was a fire in the bar. Something had short-circuited and the failsafe device had failed to work. If it hadn't been for Sparrow's quick reaction —he'd poured the contents of a flowerpot, Venus Flytrap and all, onto the flames— the damage might have been a lot more severe. As it was, they'd had to close early and they couldn't reopen until they got the green light from a certified electrician. Yvetta and her Compton-esque sister were lucky that they were far away from Fangtasia by then, or else Pam might have pulled a Wolverine and ripped their heads off. To hell with diplomacy.

* * *

Marie had only learned about the existence of witches yesterday, but already, she knew they were trouble with a capital T. The electrician had come by earlier in the day, and he'd said he had no idea why the failsafe mechanism had failed. There was no scientific explanation for it. She hadn't been about to tell him that it was magic. She already had a reputation for being the prime example of the 'new breed of educated intellectual fangbanger', and she didn't need to tack 'crazy' onto that description.

The club remained empty this evening, as Eric held a meeting for all the people who were directly involved in this. Sparrow had been included because he was supposed to find a way to get rid of the witches discreetly and legally, but apparently, there was no law about supernatural inter-species relations. So pretty much, it all came down to who had the bigger guns.

"Eric, you should call Sybille," said Pam.

"I am not going to bring her into this," said the Nordic vampire. "This is our problem, and _we_ will deal with it. If I can't deal with a couple of witches, then I shouldn't be regent."

"At least call Theodora," said Pam. "She is the representative of the High Council after all."

"I don't think she would care. After all, she is dealing with the Feathered Serpent of Teotihuacan at the moment. Two witches would not concern her right now." Well, that would explain why the ex-vampire had taken off to Mexico so suddenly; secret business with Aztec god really did take the cake, which was why Marie was being guarded by Jack Sparrow at the moment, because Jack simply couldn't go to Merlotte's and guard Sookie.

"Well, what _are_ you gonna do about it, mate?" asked Jack. "Because if you ain't got any ideas, I _could_ ask for a favour—"

"If you're thinking about Calypso, you can forget it," said Eric sharply. "I refuse to get involved in her business."

The discussion pretty much went along those lines. Eric didn't have a plan yet, but he refused to ask for help from anyone. He did fleetingly think about asking Van Helsing for advice, but then scrapped the idea of getting the monster hunter to help, for whatever the reason. Marie had the feeling that Eric _really_ respected the man. So it continued until Chow, who was guarding the door, announced that there was a witch here to see the sheriff.

It wasn't Hallow or Yvetta, but one of the lesser members of their coven. Her name was Holly, and if it hadn't been for the heavy gothic make-up, she might have even been passably pretty. As it were, she just looked like a fangbanger right now, albeit a smart-ish one. "My mistress has a new proposal for you, vampire," she said to Eric.

"Speak," said the sheriff, not bothering any other words, having deemed that witches were not worth wasting his non-existent breath on.

"My mistress will only ask for twenty five percent of your gross profit if you will service her and Mistress Yvetta for five nights a week," said the young witch. "It seems that your prowess is quite well known."

Marie gritted her teeth to keep herself from giving the witch a piece of her mind. She counted to ten. They had enough problems right now without her emotions causing more. She glanced at Eric. His blue eyes were blazing; she had never seen anything so cold. "This is the most ridiculous and insulting thing I have ever heard," he growled. "The night I touch those bitches is the night I cease to be Eric Northman."

"Is that your final answer?"

"I believe I have made it quite clear."

Holly sniffed and tilted her head back so she could look down her nose at Eric. Not a good move on her part. It really said something about Eric's capabilities as a diplomat when he _didn't_ snap her neck. "You will regret this," she said. "_All_ of you."

Chow, it seemed, was not so good at swallowing threats and insults —which was probably why he wasn't sheriff. The Asian vampire grabbed the witch by the neck. As bone snapped, an explosion of power could be felt in the small room. The flickered out and then came back on. Holly lay on the ground, her eyes glassy and her neck bent at an impossible angle. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Pam and Chow both had their fangs out, and Eric...well, Eric was simply out.

He eventually did wake up. The first thing he did upon waking was pin Chow up against the wall, cracking the plaster. They finally managed to get him to calm down and put Chow back down. The sheriff himself hadn't said a single word. When he finally did speak, his words made Marie's blood run cold. "Who are you?" he demanded of them all. The look on his face reminded her of a cornered predator; he was afraid and ready to fight for his life. "Where am I?" A pause. "Who am I?"

"Oh, bugger," said Jack. There wasn't really anything else anyone could add to that.

* * *

Hallow felt the power surge as her spell was triggered. She wasn't sorry; Holly had fulfilled her purpose. She had been a pretty bad witch, at any rate, even if she was passable as a lover. Still, she'd been getting a little boring. She closed her eyes and revelled in the power she felt. It was a thing of terrible beauty. The Viking would soon learn what a bad idea it was to mess with witches. Actually, he wouldn't learn, because he wouldn't even remember his own name. That would make him so much easier to control.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see him before her. Instead...nothing. Nothing. Something had gone wrong. He was supposed to appear right here, in this very room, where she would bind him with silver and make him her slave whilst she and the King of Arkansas conquered the fractured Kingdom of Louisiana and split it down the middle. That had been the plan. Something had gone horribly wrong.

"Have you got him?" came Yvetta's voice. She'd felt the power too. She didn't know the entire plan, of course, but Hallow had told her about her intention of enslaving the Viking and using him for sex and blood. Yvetta had been most enthusiastic about it. "Where is he?"

"Not here, obviously," snapped Hallow. Her spell had gone haywire. Her spells never did that. "Go and get the car. We're going to Fangtasia."

* * *

When in the middle of placating Quetzalcoatl, the Great Feathered Serpent of Teotihuacan, the last thing Theodora had expected was being pulled away by an urgent call from one Pamela Ravenscroft. Honestly, couldn't she have slightly better timing? Theodora had sent the first call directly to voicemail, but then her phone started buzzing and beeping incessantly as Pam bombarded her with texts. If there was one thing that Pam was normally not, then it was desperate. That set off alarm bells in her mind, and Theodora excused herself so she could go and see what was going on.

"What?" she snapped when Pam answered the phone before the first ring was even over.

Pam was panicking. Her maker had gotten entangled with witches, and now he'd lost his memory. That did not bode well. A cursed amnesiac regent was exactly what Louisiana did not need right now. Theodora wasn't supposed to take sides, but she _was_ allowed to deal with wrongdoings. Right now, she was quite sure who was in the wrong. More than that, this whole thing reeked of conspiracy. She knew she had to get back as quickly as possible.

Quetzalcoatl, instead of annoyed that she had to leave so abruptly, seemed amused. There was nothing like a little supernatural drama, she supposed, and the Great Serpent had not seen that in a while. "I still expect an explanation as to why a sorcerer was allowed to steal from my vortex," he said.

"To be quite honest with you, it's your own damn fault for falling asleep for five hundred years," said Theodora. Sometimes, even she lost it. "After all, you're the vortex's guardian."

Quetzalcoatl's laughter echoed behind her as she took the ingredients out of her bag for a more complicated teleporting spell. True enough, she could only teleport about five hundred feet on her own, but with tools and powders invented by other better practitioners of magic —namely witches, wizards, magi and so on and so forth— she could teleport pretty much wherever she wanted. It was just more comfortable and a little less pricey to fly first class, that was all, so she only ever used this long-distance teleportation for emergencies. This counted as an emergency.

* * *

They were all taken by surprise when Theodora suddenly appeared in the room with a pop, looking a little green. "You know what?" she said. "I'm not even going to enjoy saying 'I told you so'. This is a fucking disaster."

"No shit," said Pam. "Tell us what happened."

"The spell was triggered when..._that_ witch was killed," said Theodora, stating what they already knew.

"And?" prompted Pam impatiently, tapping her Louboutin against the grey carpeting of Eric's office.

"It was supposed to take him to a certain location, where the caster of the spell was waiting —I assume that's Yvetta and her sister— but something malfunctioned." Theodora turned to Marie, raising an eyebrow in appreciation. "The caster of the spell didn't count on you being here."

"Me?" said Marie. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," said Theodora. "You're a succubus, albeit an undeveloped one. The magic inherent in your blood warped the spell so it only partially worked. We can talk about this later. Right now, we need to get out of here. He didn't go to them, and I have no doubt they will come looking for him."

* * *

It was a normal night for Sookie. The tips were good, and the customers were a little rowdy, but they knew she was with Quinn, so no one tried anything too bad, not that she couldn't have taken care of it herself. Still, she supposed a large man was more intimidating than a small but powerful buxom blonde. Stereotypes sucked. The night remained good until she returned home to find Chow's large black van parked in the middle of her driveway, almost directly on the steps of her porch. Firstly, what was _Chow_ doing here, and secondly, why couldn't he park a little off to the side the way _civilized_ people did? Even Eric parked off to the side when he drove to her house, and he was _far_ from civilized.

Things became worse when she found Pam, Eric, Marie, Jack, Chow and Theodora all seated at her table, holding some sort of war council with Sybille and the mutants simultaneously over the webcam. There were wires all over her floor. Marie slammed the laptop shut as soon as she saw Quinn. "What's going on?" demanded Sookie. "Why is everybody here?"

Marie glanced at Pam. That was odd. The two were more or less friends, for lack of a better term, but her cousin usually looked to Eric for advice. Eric was sitting right there, nursing a bottle of blood, and yet it had been Pam that Marie had looked to for confirmation about something. "It's a long story, Sookie," said Pam. "Why don't you take a seat?"

"It ain't that long," said Jack. "To put it simply, we're on the brink of war, the tiger's a traitorous double agent, and the rum is _gone_!"

* * *

**A/N: **Poor Jack. Despite working for someone who owns a bar, the rum is _still_ gone. An amnesiac Regent of Louisiana is definitely going to have wider repercussions than an amnesiac Sheriff of Area Five. ;) _And_, last but not least, what is Quinn up to?


	37. All the King's Men

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognize.

**Chapter 37: All the King's Men**

A succubus? She wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but now wasn't the right time. Her priority was Eric and his missing memory. Marie wracked her mind for ideas as Chow pressed the gas pedal to the floor and practically flew his van to Bon Temps, whilst Pam and Theodora were both making phone calls to various people. Pam was speaking to Queen Sybille at the moment, ignoring Eric's desire to not bring her into it, and Theodora fired a line of Italian into her phone before ending that call and pressing yet another series of buttons. "Bloody time zones," she muttered.

In amidst this activity, Eric looked horribly lost, although he remained stoic and silent. The only sign of his inner confusion and fear was the fact that his jaw was clenched. Marie reached out and brushed his hand with her un-gloved fingers. He glanced at her, surprised at the contact, and possibly the emotion he felt through it. For a moment, she even imagined she detected a slight sense of familiarity. Was it possible that everything was still in his subconscious? After all, Logan dreamed about his past all the time.

Yes, Logan. _That_ was who she should call. Even if he couldn't give any advice on regaining memories, it would be good to talk to someone supportive. It wouldn't hurt to have Oh, and the Professor, of course. No one knew more about amnesia than those two. Hallow and Yvetta were dangerous, and doubtless they could use some help at a time like this. Marie squeezed Eric's hand. He seemed to find some comfort in the contact, because he returned the gesture and then refused to let go of her, not that she wanted him to. Pam caught sight of them, and she raised an eyebrow.

In no time, they were outside the farmhouse. Marie invited them all in and went to the kitchen to heat up some blood —and to see if Sookie had any rum; Jack had been looking increasingly miserable in the past fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the pirate-lawyer, Sookie wasn't much of a drinker, and she only had some gin for gin and tonics, as well as a couple of beers for Jason. Jack opted for the gin, even if he claimed it was a poor substitute for the sweet 'elixir of life' that was rum. By then, Theodora had set up a satellite dish —she didn't want to use the wireless broadband connection that Bill had installed and that Sookie still hadn't uninstalled because she didn't want anyone to tap the conversations that they were going to have— and was setting up the computers.

They were talking to two parties at once; Sybille in her office and Logan and the Professor in the Professor's office. Eric seemed startled to see people in the computer screens, and he peered behind the screens to see if they protruded from behind. He'd forgotten all about modern technology too.

They were arranging for Logan and the Professor to come down. The Professor, apparently, was more than capable of reading vampire minds and killing them with telepathy if necessary, and he felt that he might be able to help if he could delve into Eric's subconscious. Pam didn't look very sure about it, but Marie was able to convince her that the Professor merely meant to help.

Originally, Pam and Marie wanted to take Eric to New York to keep him safe, but both Eric and Sybille thought it was a bad idea. One, Eric didn't want to run away from a threat and from his responsibilities—it was good to know that amnesia couldn't change the core of his personality— and Sybille thought that would only tell everyone in the world that something was rotten in Louisiana, and thus attract a lot of unwanted attention from ambitious vampire monarchs who wanted to expand their territories.

"Eric, Hallow and Yvetta will come for you," said Pam.

"I am not afraid of them," said Eric. "They took something of mine, and I want it back."

"Besides, don't we need them to undo this spell?" asked Jack.

"Yes, but I don't see how that's related," said Pam. "We can still search for Yvetta and her bitch sister while Eric weathers out the storm in New York."

"That is not happening," said Eric.

"Aye," said Jack. "It's easier, innit, if we lure them out to a battlefield of our choosin', instead o' searchin' everywhere for 'em? Not that it would be too difficult, I mean, wiv me compass an' all, but we won't have the home turf advantage. Who doesn't want an advantage, eh?"

"Why do I get the feeling that we're only seeing a corner of the picture?" Marie murmured. All eyes turned to her in surprise. Being the youngest one there, no one had expected her to say anything on the matter. "I mean, why attack a vampire with such high profile? Isn't she scared of incurring the wrath of all vampires, or at least all vampires in Louisiana?"

"Vampires aren't known for being united, Miss D'Ancanto," said Sybille.

"But if this Hallow can threaten a vampire regent, then it means she's a threat to all vampires, and therefore, logically speaking, wouldn't vampires unite temporarily to rid themselves of this threat before going back to biting one another's throats out?"

"She's got a point," said Theodora. "I'd imagine that if the Fellowship of the Sun took out Felipe De Castro, all vampires would retaliate, even if no one likes De Castro."

"So you think there's someone behind this Hallow character," Sybille mused. "That's entirely possible. Vampires have been known to form alliances with other forces to fight other vampires. Present company is a prime example of this."

"Or maybe it's just a larger group of witches, or maybe even weres," added Theodora. "Marie's right. We have to know what this bigger plan is."

"Obviously the first step of it was to take me out," said Eric. He might have lost his memories, but he was still Eric. Well, maybe Eric Lite. "I do not think they will make any further moves without achieving that first."

"So if we make it seem as if the spell failed completely, that will lure the bitches out, as well as prevent the others behind them from doin' a thing, and then we can question them or dig through their heads to find out what's goin' on, and then we know everythin'," Logan finished.

"That sounds like a plan," said Pam. "But what if they get to Eric first?"

"That's where the succubus comes in," said Theodora.

"What succubus?" asked Logan, Sybille and the Professor at the same time. It was eerie, really, how they all thought the same thing. Marie slowly raised her hand.

"That's me, apparently," she said nervously. Many pairs of incredulous eyes turned to her, and she grew embarrassed. Really, she didn't even know what being an undeveloped succubus entailed. This was all too new to her.

"God definitely has a sense of humour," said the Queen of New York. She gave Marie a quick knowing smile. And then she winked in a mischievous manner. Obviously, she knew more about Marie, at least in this respect, than Marie did. "On a related note, I think you should know this. Do not trust the were-tiger. He is working for the King of Nevada."

"He was," said Pam. "Eric paid off his debts."

"Not all of them," said Sybille. "De Castro was careful to hide it, but my people are very good. If you don't believe me, ask him."

* * *

Sookie searched Quinn's face, hoping and praying that Jack's declaration wasn't true. "Are you?" she asked. "Are you a double agent?" In her turmoil and desperation, her shields wavered, and she heard him. Not clearly, as he was a were, but she could make out snatches of his thoughts. Mostly, they sounded something like '_shit'. _Sookie felt like saying that out loud. This was twice in a row. Twice! Was she really that bad at choosing who to fall for? "So what is it then? Did someone want their own personal telepath? Let me guess, you were sent to 'procure' me?" It seemed that she wasn't as over Bill as she'd thought she was. The telepath was projecting her feelings about him onto Quinn, and she knew she was being a little unfair, but what the hell. She'd had enough of being double-crossed by men she'd trusted.

And speaking of double-crossing men...

There was a knock on the door, and she realized that she hadn't closed it. Standing in the doorway was Bill, luggage in hand and hair mussed from travel. Sookie's breath hitched in her throat. No, this couldn't be happening to her. Not right now. She felt a tingle in her fingers. The warm spread up and through her body, gathering behind her eyes. No, no, no. She had to get herself under control. The telepath swallowed and forced herself to detach from her emotions. "What are you doing here, Bill?"

"Queen Sybille requested that I return to Louisiana immediately," said the vampire, as humourless as ever. Sookie had no idea why she'd ever been attracted to him, apart from his silence. Had she really been that desperate? He caught her looking at him, and she quickly looked away before he could hold her gaze for too long. Something in his dark eyes had captivated her on that first night. "Sookie, I—"

"Stop acting like an infatuated tween and sit down, Compton," Pam snapped. "You can save your pathetic sappy explanations for later."

"I have not been invited into the house," said Bill, keeping his eyes focused on the telepath.

"Sookie, it's your call," said Pam. At least she had the sense to ask her. Maybe Pam wasn't so bad, after all. Male vampires, however...

"You can come in," said Sookie curtly. "But if you try anything, I'm sending you right back out." Bill inclined his head, accepting her conditions and the fact that he was still in the metaphorical doghouse and would probably never get out. She turned right back to Quinn. She could sense his panic. Well, of course he was panicking. He was trapped in a house full of hostile vampires and God knew what, and they'd just outed him as a double-agent. This was not Quinn's night.

His phone was confiscated, and he was more or less strip-searched by Pam and Theodora. They recovered a few Post-its with phone numbers written on them, a marked map, and a couple of disposable cell phones. The evidence was making him look increasingly worse. "Well, Tiger," said Theodora after they'd finished. Quinn was standing just in his boxers now. Purple boxers. They matched his eyes, Sookie supposed. It was not a good colour on him. "I believe in judging people fairly, no matter how much I dislike them personally. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You don't understand," said Quinn.

"You're right, we don't," said Pam.

"I bet there's somethin' in it for you, eh?" said Jack, lifting his leg and then resting his ankle on his knee.

"There's nothing in it for me, Sparrow," growled Quinn. "Felipe De Castro has my family."

He told them of how his mother, another were-tiger, had gone on a rampage, and how the Nevada vampires had helped to clean up the scene and dispose of the evidence. In return, Quinn had to work for them for seven years. In effect, he was their serf, and they could make him do whatever they wanted. He'd been anything from an assassin to a gladiator.

"Eric bought your services," said Pam.

"He thought he did," said Quinn. "This is my fifth year, and De Castro agreed to release me from his service early if I did this for him."

"And what exactly is _this_?" asked Theodora.

"He wanted me to spy on Louisiana and report back to him. In particular, he was interested in the vampire-mutant alliance, and he was curious about Northman's telepath, but I swear, Sookie, I haven't said anything about you."

"And the vampire-mutant alliance?" said Marie.

"You and Howlett are the only mutants I know, and I don't even know what your mutations are," said Quinn. "I never meant to hurt either of you."

"But you were ready to harm my master, who paid to free you from De Castro," said Pam. Her voice was so hard and sharp it could have cut glass. If not for the fact that they needed to get information out of Quinn, she probably would have ripped him to shreds right there and then, champion of the arena or not.

"One slave master is not so different from another," said Quinn. "Vamps are vamps. You're all the same. It just happens so that one of them has my family, and if De Castro finds out what I've told you, he'll deliver their heads to me on silver platters." He looked so dejected that it was almost possible to feel sorry for him.

"Luckily for you, we're not a bunch of traitorous backstabbing bastards," said Theodora. "Besides, it wouldn't benefit us to hurt you." She held out Quinn's phone on the palm of her hand and offered it to him. He looked at her in confusion. "I want you to continue to feed De Castro bullshit," she said. "If you want your family to get out alive, you will do as I say. Felipe De Castro is not the only one who can harm them."

"I don't see how _you_ can get them out of his grasp," said Quinn, snatching the phone off her palm.

"I have connections," said Theodora. "What, you think I'm only good for watching telepaths, drinking martinis and wearing sparkly pants?"

* * *

Sookie looked everywhere; at the ceiling, at Pam, at the computer screen, at the clock—anywhere, but at Bill. Seeing him opened old wounds that had barely started to heal. He was probably going to be an asset, she knew, but still, she couldn't just cut off the sentimental part of herself. This was the man she'd loved, and this was the man who'd let two pieces of white trash beat her half to death so that he could feed her his blood and secure her attachment to him because she was a mission, nothing more. It didn't matter whether he'd fallen in love with her later or not. Someone who could stand by and watch someone get killed without interfering was not someone she could forgive. It didn't help that a voice in the back of her mind kept telling her it wasn't because he was a vampire. _That_ might have helped her feel a little better, because it wouldn't have meant that out of all vampires, she had to select the one who was devious and manipulative and one who lied to everyone about his humanity. However, that was the truth of it. She'd been so stupid.

The arrival of Charles, Logan, Mystique and Sabretooth was a welcome distraction. "Welcome to the Amnesia Club, bub," Logan said the Eric as soon as he walked through the door. No one ever said he was subtle or sensitive.

"Thank you," said Eric solemnly. "I think." His brow was furrowed with a frown as he took in the sight of the Wolverine with his strange twin-peaked hair, and of course, naked blue Mystique. There was no for him to ask questions, however, as they had to plan his guard detail. An Eric without his memories was a vulnerable Eric. After much suspicion from the vampires, they allowed Charles to attempt to read his mind to see if he could bring back any memories. The older telepath, unlike Sookie, wasn't afraid to let the vampires know what he could do. He was, after all, powerful enough to kill with a thought. That made him very dangerous. Luckily, there was hardly a bigger philanthropist in the world than Charles Xavier, unless she was making a drastic mistake yet again. Still, both Marie and Logan trusted him, and Sookie, in turn, trusted their judgement most of the time. That, and Gabriel Van Helsing had spoken well of the telepath.

Apparently, it wasn't all that helpful. It made Eric swear —well, it sounded like swearing; technically, Sookie didn't understand what was being said as it was in some foreign language that probably went extinct a couple of centuries ago— but that was about it. "I do not understand," he said. "What does it all mean? I saw images, but they did not make sense. There was so much death."

"The mind is not a box to be opened or closed at will," said Charles gently as he lowered his hands. "You must be patient and let the memories resurface on their own."

"What if they do not?" asked the Nordic vampire.

"You just gotta keep on livin'," said Logan with a shrug. "It don't get much easier, but you learn to live with it, bub. Granted, I only have...what, one hundred, maybe two hundred years worth missing, compared to your thousand years, but the principle's gotta be the same, right?"

"You know, Jimmy," drawled the Sabretooth, flashing a grin at his amnesiac younger brother. "You could just ask me. I could tell you most of what happened."

"Is there anyone who can tell me about...me?" asked Eric.

"I suppose there are various people who know bits of your history, darling," said Sybille. "But there are few who know you well enough to tell you everything, and they are probably all truly dead."

* * *

Fangtasia was empty, even though there were a few cars in the parking lot. Yvetta recognized Eric's corvette. She'd so wanted him to fuck her on the hood, but the last time she'd suggested it, he'd said that the studs on her costume would scratch the paint. It was petty, and it was ineffectual, but she grabbed her keys and strode over to the car anyway. That vampire loved his car more than anything. She left seven parallel scratches on the driver's door, not knowing if he would ever see them, but it made her feel slightly better that she'd _somehow_ managed to hurt him. She wanted to make him pay for the humiliation she'd suffered. Him choosing another woman —_that_ woman— over her was unthinkable. She was every man's dream! She'd gone under the knife enough times to make sure of that. Her proportions were absolutely fucking perfect.

Her focus shifted. Yes, she would get that bitch. Somehow, she would get her. Most likely, the vampires would have kept records of all their employees. She remembered seeing filing cabinets in Eric's office when he'd once taken her on the desk. The witch focused her power on the lock on the employee's entrance. The lock began to smoke and melt. She kicked open the door. Eric's filing cabinets were well-organized. Big bad vampire sheriff obviously liked being in total control. She wondered what had happened to him. Hallow's spell had gone wrong, so there was not knowing what he'd ended up as. Perhaps he'd been changed into a slug? She could only hope.

There. Marie Anna D'Ancanto; currently living in Bon Temps, just over an hour's drive from Shreveport. Her species was listed as human, but Yvetta knew better. Everyone working at Fangtasia was aware that the bitch was a mutant. Maybe that was the reason why Northman was so into her. Perhaps she tasted different, or maybe he just wanted an exotic pet. "Hallow, look at this," she said. "I think I know where he might be."

* * *

The King of Arkansas was getting impatient. Hallow had promised him that she would hand him Louisiana on a platter —preferably not silver— so that they could split it down the middle. However, things had not gone according to plan. Some magical force or another had disrupted her spell, but so subtly that she had no idea what it was. She hadn't even felt it.

The older witch followed Yvetta inside the club. It was empty. The door of the Viking's office was half open, and she could hear her sister rummaging inside, tossing folders onto the floor in search of something, most likely an address of some sort. Hallow wasn't as interested in the address as the magical signature of whatever had disrupted her spell. She hadn't had a failed spell ever since she'd been sixteen.

Traces of the magic still remained in the office, even though the carrier of the spell —Holly— had long since been removed. Vampires were excellent at hiding murders. Still, human law enforcement was catching up. The new forensic technology was quite impressive. However, magic still stumped those scientists in their clean metallic labs and white lab coats. Magic needed no rationale. It didn't need formulae or set theories. It didn't have to justify its existence with facts and strict guidelines about what should or should not be. Science was dead and set in stone. Magic was alive and ever changing. That was the beauty of it. One could never predict what would happen when one used magic. If it went wrong, then it went horribly wrong. Hallow liked the danger, not just in magic, but in everything else in life. That was probably one of the factors driving her to even considering bargaining with the Vampire King of Arkansas and threatening the Regent of Louisiana. That, and she could never be satisfied with what she had. The most powerful coven in North America wasn't enough for her. Millions of dollars worth of shares in casinos wasn't enough of her. She wanted to be more than just a rich woman. She wanted to be a queen. She'd always thought that she was meant to rule. More than that, she always felt she had something to prove to the world. She might not have been beautiful, or even passably attractive, but she had power. That was something no one could ever take from her.

Her magic lingered in the empty office, of course, but there was also something else she couldn't place. There was something old and subtle, like the woody scents that formed the barely detectable base of a perfume, and also something dark, perhaps darker than her own spell. Hallow cast out her sixth sense. It wasn't as honed as some. Some people were born with the ability to feel magic like tasting a soup and identifying all the ingredients, or hearing a symphony and deciphering all the chords, the cadences, whether they were in major keys or minor keys, and all that. However, what she did feel alarmed her. The magic that had disrupted her spell read like a void; a black hole. Something had absorbed the force of the spell.

At that moment, her cell phone rang. It was Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas. He was a slimy bastard, but he was a useful slimy bastard. He was willing to lend her an army of vampires if she would only take out the Regent of Louisiana for him. It worked to both their advantages. Threadgill knew he couldn't deal with Northman at his full strength. He'd coordinated with some of the other sheriffs in Louisiana —after having paid them handsome sums of money, of course, which was probably more than a poor kingdom like Arkansas could afford. Once Northman was eliminated, Hallow's coven and Threadgill's army, as well as the cooperative sheriffs, would sweep through Louisiana, eliminating all opposition. Half of Louisiana would be absorbed into the Kingdom of Arkansas, whilst the other half was to become Hallow's own personal fiefdom. She already had the tax laws all planned out. All the supes in the area would pay her tribute.

"Do you have him?" demanded Threadgill without bothering with any niceties.

"Not yet," said Hallow. She wasn't about to tell him that her spell had malfunctioned. That would be signing her own death warrant. "Some things cannot be rushed. When I have him, I will _tell_ you."

"You had better not make me wait too long, witch," snarled the vampire. "My patience has limits." He hung up on her. Hallow snapped her phone shut. Oh, yes, she would get him very soon. Yvetta had found the fangbanger's address. It was unlikely that if he was there, Northman would move anywhere else, with dawn approaching so soon. She didn't mean to kill him, as Threadgill intended, of course. She had much better uses for a vampire of the Viking's age and prowess. Taking a vampire during the day would be easy.

* * *

They were staying at the farmhouse until nightfall, when they would make alternative arrangements. Eric couldn't stay in Bon Temps. He'd pretty much shown everyone who cared to look that he was tied to this town. Both his telepath and his woman lived here, and Marie was sure that if Hallow was powerful enough to cast a spell like this on the vampire, she wouldn't have problems connecting the dots.

The Regent's guard detail was to remain with him at all times, not that Marie had any intention of leaving him whilst he was at his most vulnerable. He'd held onto her as if she was a protective amulet. Perhaps it was the familiarity of her touch and the flow of emotions that came with it. Somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he remembered. It was as if the witches' spell had locked away all the history and experience that had shaped the Eric Northman they all knew, and left behind simply the _essence_ of Eric. He was still a leader, still brave and still proud, but gone was the overinflated ego —he didn't have a thousand years worth of memories to convince him that he was superior to ninety nine point nine percent of living creatures on earth— and the self-assuredness. He hid his doubts well, but she could sense his emotions whenever she touched him, and she couldn't blame him for being uncertain. After all, part of the plan was teaching him how to be his former self. Teaching Eric to be Eric; this was going to be interesting, to say the least.

She was just clearing out the floor of Sookie's other closet; the one that housed Bill's old hidey hole. Bill wouldn't be staying here, of course. He wasn't welcome in this house, and if not for the fact that they needed a slightly older vampire who was compiling a database on all vampires in the world, and was therefore knowledgeable about pretty much every other vampire, Sookie would probably have kicked him out without a second thought. Even if she didn't, Marie might have, or maybe Logan. Oh yeah. Logan would definitely have planted his boot on Bill's ass, to put it delicately. The Wolverine didn't take well to others maltreating people who were close to him.

During the entire war council, Logan had been shooting the Civil War vampire angry glares. If looks could kill, Bill would have been ash by now. Quinn had been on the receiving end of those looks too, since he was a double agent. Marie felt a little sorry for the were-tiger, actually. Not only had he _not_ been given back his clothes, and therefore had to attend the war council dressed in his purple boxers and nothing else —that Theodora might have been almost eight centuries old, but she could be _so_ immature sometimes— but he was also stuck between a rock and a concrete slab. Either way, he could easily get himself and his family killed.

Eric stood behind her. His mask of strength and control was mostly gone, now that he was alone in a room with her. Wordlessly, he took the piles of towels and empty shoe boxes she took out of the closet and set them aside neatly in a corner. Even though he'd forgotten who he was, he still liked to be organized. "I know it's a little small," she said as she opened the trapdoor to show him the hidey hole. "But it's safe, for now."

The Viking sniffed. "It smells of that other vampire. William?" he said.

"That's because he used to stay the night here sometimes," said Marie. Eric looked dejected.

"Were you...his?" he asked.

"Me?" Marie almost snorted. "Oh, no. He's not my type. My cousin, Sookie?" He nodded. He remembered being reintroduced to Sookie. "She was with him for a little while, but they broke up."

"Broke up?" The modern lexicon stumped him.

"She decided she didn't want to be his anymore."

"Oh," said Eric. "That makes sense. You smell of me."

"I guess I do."

"Are you mine?"

"We have a sort of relationship." It was complicated.

"What sort of relationship?"

"An intimate one."

"So you _are_ my woman." He seemed to brighten up at the idea. "I think my other self has good taste."

"I think you're still you, just without your memories," Marie pointed out with a little smile. That much was true. He still had all his usual characteristics, just without a thousand years of experience to enhance certain traits or subdue them.

"I find that very inconvenient," said the vampire. He made an irritated sound to show just how inconvenient he thought it was. "My child tells me I am over a thousand years old. There is a lot to learn."

"There is, but we'll get your memories back, I promise, and you won't have to learn anything."

"But until then, I will still have to learn something about myself. I must pretend there is nothing wrong with me, no? Therefore, there are things I must know." He reached out to cup her face gently. "I feel as if I know you," he whispered, "even though I do not. It is strange. Some part of me remembers, but I do not know what I remember, or why."

"I can't tell you anything," she said, wishing that she could. She had feelings for this man, vampire, whatever, but she realized, now more than ever, that she knew practically nothing about him apart from the fact that he was a wily politician and a Viking. Oh, he was a sex god, and he also loved the colour red. Was it wise to have feelings for someone who she hardly knew? Or were they all fools in love? Wait...love? Did she _love_ him? She was certainly upset that part of her Eric had been stripped away—_her_ Eric? God, she was becoming as bad as a vampire with the possessive pronouns.

"Stay with me until dawn, please?" he implored. Eric Northman imploring; that just wasn't right.

"Of course," she said. And then she sneezed. Oh dear. On top of this entire mess, she just had to catch a cold. In an instant, Eric was looming in front of her, genuine worry written all over his face.

"Are you ill?" He placed a hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. All in all, it sounded as if he thought she was dying, or something.

"Oh, it's just a cold," she assured him. "It's nothing big."

"You must rest if you are ill," he stated with much concern. "Perhaps I could stay with you in your bedchamber, until dawn, if that is all right with you?"

"I guess..." she said. He would smell himself in her room, and perhaps, maybe...well, it couldn't help to provide something to trigger his memories, could it? She was a little shy about it. Perhaps there was the feeling that this _wasn't_ the man who had shown her the meaning of making love. Sure, he had the same body, and the same personality traits, but how much of one person was composed of their genetic disposition, and how much of a person was formed by their experiences. Would this Eric, stripped of all his memories, still be _her_ Eric? Or was he merely Eric Lite? And if he was the latter, would being with him be a sort of betrayal to the real Eric? Then again, real Eric, memories and all, was locked in there somewhere, so in essence, he was the same man. "Of course," she said. "But you'll know when dawn is coming, right?"

"I believe so," said Eric. "It is instinct." He trailed her to her bedroom. Luckily, everyone else was still downstairs. The other vampires were debating over resting places. Pam had commandeered Bill's resting place in his house, so Bill could either sleep in the ground or in his travel coffin. That Pam. Her determination, confidence and her complete belief in her own importance had to be admired. Bill Compton didn't stand a chance against her, even though she was younger. Eric informed her that Logan was threatening Quinn with decapitation or worse, such as Jack's suggestion of 'snip snip', if he ever tried to betray them.

Eric made a face when he relayed the 'snip snip' part to Marie. Apparently, the meaning was universally understood, even by vampires who didn't know any modern lexicon. "I would not like to be enemies with your friends," the vampire informed her, referring to Logan and Jack. "They can be quite diabolical."

"It's a good thing that you're not their enemies, then," said Marie as she opened the door. "They're your allies." She ducked into the bathroom to get changed and when she came back into the bedroom, she found that Eric had removed his shoes, lined them up neatly beside her bed, and was lying half beneath the covers, with his hands behind his head. He patted the spot beside him with a seductive grin. Some things never changed.

"I think I remember doing this," he said once she'd crawled into bed beside him. It felt so natural just to snuggle up against his room temperature body. Unfortunately, room temperature wasn't all that warm at the moment, but that was all right. She was just glad he was with her, instead of spirited off to wherever those bitches were. "I remember doing this too." He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"What else do you remember?" she murmured.

"I will gladly show you, if you will allow me, milady," he whispered in a husky voice. It turned out that there were some parts of his psyche that the witches' amnesia spell hadn't managed to touch at all. It was too bad that it was so close to dawn.

* * *

**A/N: **And so things get messier and messier.


	38. Of Wolverines, Sparrows and Fangsters

**Chapter 38: Of Wolverines, Sparrows and Fangsters**

This was a mess. No matter how glad he was that he wasn't the only person who couldn't remember a damn thing, Logan wouldn't wish his life on anyone. Granted, his life was a hell of a lot better than some other people's, but still. Amnesia sucked. He punched the pillow into shape as he settled on the couch. Sookie's house wasn't quite big enough to house so many people, and some of the guard detail had to sleep in their cars. Logan would have quite willingly slept on the X-Jet, but everyone thought it would be best if he remained in the house, along with Sparrow and Quinn. He and the lawyer were meant to guard the were-tiger. The Wolverine wasn't quite sure what use Sparrow would be. The man was five foot ten at the very most. Quinn was well over six feet tall and made out of pure muscle. Sparrow looked as if he could use a couple of extra protein shakes. The only thing Sparrow actually had was a very sharp tongue and a dark sense of humour. Snip snip indeed. Although, if Quinn tried anything, Logan wouldn't be averse to using such methods of containing him. All was fair in love and war. Especially war.

Speaking of war, if one vampire king had his eye on Louisiana whilst it had a regent instead of a legal monarch, who could say there _wasn't_ another vampire king eyeing the helpless state? It would be really bad for them if there was some alliance to take over Louisiana and split it. They might have New York on their side, but Sybille Royale had her own troubles to worry about, and she was very far away.

A knock interrupted his increasingly disturbing chain of thought. He swung his bare feet off the couch. They had to be careful, in case it was a witch. At first, he'd thought that they'd meant bitches, but it turned out that there really _were_ witches. Then again, faeries were real too. Speaking of faeries, Claudine stood at the door, dressed to the nines. Was there ever a time when the faerie didn't look as if she'd just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine? She also had a knack for appearing just when she was needed.

"I felt Sookie's distress earlier on," said the faerie, not bothering with greetings as she stepped inside the house. "What's going on?"

"Um..." said Logan. There really wasn't much he was capable of saying. Eloquence was not one of his strengths; at least, not when it mattered. "Maybe..."

"Brigant," said Theodora, zooming into the room. "Good, you're here. I was wondering if you would come."

"You know each other?" Logan asked. Did Theodora Evelyn know everyone in the world?

"Not really," said the ex-vampire. "I know she's a Brigant, but I don't know which Brigant."

"You're the vampire who isn't," said Claudine, looking the other woman up and down. "Good. Perhaps you can explain. Why was my young cousin distressed on your watch?"

* * *

Sookie had never been so glad to see someone. Claudine pulled her into a hug as soon as she saw her. Her godmother smelled of honeysuckle on a warm summer's day. It was comforting. "You must be strong, dear cousin," Claudine murmured. "I know it must be difficult for you, seeing the man who has betrayed you so badly, but things are being set in motion, and you need all the help you can get. This isn't just vampire business anymore. We are, all of us, involved in one way or another."

"I don't get it," said Sookie. "I'm only involved because I used to date a vampire, but how are the fae involved, apart from your link to me, that is?"

"Eric Northman has links in the Faerie world, as well as in the were world and now the mutant world. Basically, he has links with just about any supernatural entity in the world. You might not know it, but he is one of the key stones in the North American supernatural community. Topple him, and everything comes crashing down all around you. The power balance will be destroyed, and Europe will get involved. He has links to perhaps some of the most powerful rulers in Europe, Africa and Asia."

Eric? Well, Sookie knew he was an influential vampire, but she'd never thought that he was _so_ influential. After all, he was just a Sheriff, and now Regent of Louisiana. Her houseguest. Yes, her houseguest was pretty much the vampire equivalent of the governor of Louisiana, and he was sleeping in a little crawlspace under the floor of her spare closet. The very notion made her want to giggle insanely. Yes, she was a little tired. "Get some sleep, Sookie," said Claudine. "You look like one of the vampires, with those circles under your eyes."

"I wish I could," the telepath told her. "But I just can't. My brain won't stop thinking—"

"Do you feel that?" Logan suddenly said, cutting her off in midsentence.

* * *

This little old farmhouse was not a fortress worthy of a vampire sheriff, but perhaps its innocent and harmless appearance was what made it such a good hideout. If they hadn't known about the vampire's infatuation with a certain young mutant, Hallow and Yvetta wouldn't have known to look here. They'd brought most of their coven along, in case Northman's people put up a fight. His vampires would be dead to the world right now, but there was the telepath and the mutant to consider, not to mention whatever it was that had altered Hallow's spell. Humans were of no consequence. They couldn't do anything against magic.

The witches surrounded the farmhouse, with its peeling paint and gutters flecked with rust. At once, Hallow sensed that something was not right. Yes, she could feel the unnatural life force of vampires interrupting the energy from the ley lines, but there were other sources of dormant magic; something a lot more powerful than her powers. There was a faerie inside. It wasn't too old, which was a good thing, but there was something else hidden within. It was like nothing Hallow had ever encountered before, and she'd encountered a great number of supes. Not only did she know vampires, other types of witches, wizards, warlocks and even a Maenad, but she'd never encountered something so strong and so subtle and so completely alien. There was some human life force involved, but mostly, it was just...well, for the first time in many years, Hallow actually felt unsure of herself.

* * *

The feeling had come upon him so quickly that he'd almost shivered. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Rather, he'd had a similar feeling when he'd jumped off a waterfall naked. Wait...where had that come from? Outside, the sky was darkening. Within about fifteen minutes, it would be dark, which was just as well. It would be great to have the vampires awake should there be a fight.

"Feel what?" asked Mystique. "What is it, Wolverine? Spit it out!"

"_That_," said Marie. Ah, so he wasn't the only one. Their eyes met, and Logan knew that Marie was thinking the same thing as he was. At that moment, Claudine and Theodora came back to confirm their suspicions. "We're surrounded," said Claudine. "They're going to try and besiege us."

"They won't succeed, will they?" asked Jack a little nervously.

"I don't know," the faerie admitted. "She is very powerful, and she has other witches helping her. I am here alone. The Fae do not want to get too involved in the business of other species."

"She has far too much power for one witch," said Theodora. "My guess is that she has absorbed the powers of many other witches, and perhaps other kinds of supes as well."

"She can do that?" said Marie.

"What?" said Theodora. "Did you think you were the only one? You may be the only one of your kind, in a manner of speaking, but your powers are by no means unique."

"Can you deal with them?" Logan asked.

"On my own?" said Theodora. "Obviously not. However, since we have a faerie, you, an immortal pirate lord, a were-tiger, two telepaths, a metamorph, whatever the hell Sabretooth is, and an undeveloped succubus, I fancy that we do have a chance."

"You say it as if you think we'll work together," muttered Quinn.

"It's either that, or I'll have Marie absorb your life so she can be stronger in the fight," said Theodora.

"You can't make me do anything!" Marie protested.

"But you're a survivalist, and you're loyal," said Theodora. "If...say...Quinn were to endanger and betray us, and thus _Eric_, you'd make sure he wouldn't get the chance, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I damn well would! You know I'd kill for Eric." Whoa. Coming from Marie, that showed quite some level of commitment. That girl hated violence and liked to avoid fights when necessary. Heck, it had been hard enough to convince her to kill virtual humans during Danger Room training sessions. She was better about it now, but still, she only killed when she believed it was the only way to keep the people she loved safe. Perhaps Logan would have to get to know Northman a little better, after this disaster was over. It seemed as if he was going to be an important part of Marie's life now, and whatever was important to Marie was important to the Wolverine.

"You don't have to worry about me. I don't owe these bitches anything," said Quinn. "And if you can help me get my family out of De Castro's grip, I'll be in your debt."

"I like the sound o' that," said Jack. "Barbossa's got a monkey; it would annoy him if I snagged meself a tiger. Alternatively, I wouldn't mind gettin' a tiger skin rug for me cabin once I get me _Pearl_ back."

The Wolverine was the only thing that stopped the Tiger from snapping Sparrow in half. "Shut it, Sparrow," Logan snapped. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"It takes a lot more to kill Captain Jack Sparrow than a mangy cat with stripes," said Jack with a sniff. "So, what're we gonna do 'bout those witchy wenches?"

"They won't attack unless they're certain they can win, and if Hallow is as powerful as she thinks she is, she'll be able to sense that we have powerful help. She won't be rash. And if she can't sense the magic in here, then there's no point in being worried about her," said Theodora. "We stall for as long as we can, until Eric and the other vampires wake up. And then we'll have a fighting force to reckon with."

* * *

Eric, Pam and the other vampires, including Bill, were itching for a fight. Eric wanted his memories back. Pam wanted to get back at the witches who hurt her maker, and Bill either wanted to impress Sookie or perhaps it was just his more violent vampiric traits showing themselves. After all, who knew what happened if a vampire drank the blood of a powerful witch? Would they absorb the power, or was it just like any other blood?

"I remember this feeling," said Eric. He was getting rather excited. "I love it!" He sounded like a little boy about to go to Disneyland. Marie could not help but smile at his enthusiasm, as twisted as it was. Normal Eric would die first before he would be seen looking so excited.

"I'm glad someone's so optimistic," Logan muttered as he pulled on the gloves of his X-Men uniform.

"I love a good fight myself," said Sabretooth with a grin. They'd all been surprised to learn that he had a name; Victor Creed. For as long as Marie had known about him, which, admittedly, wasn't that long, he'd just been 'Sabretooth' to everyone. "Who wants a drink?"

"To victory!" cried Jack, lifting his rum bottle high and then draining it in one gulp, probably to steel his nerves. Then again, rum was Jack's soul food and muse. Perhaps this was his way of preparing for battle. "We fight to run away!"

"No one's doing any running!" said Eric sharply. "I will not run, and I believe I have never run before."

"I thought he was amnesiac?" said Logan.

"Some things cannot be forgotten," said Pam. "And Eric is right. No one is doing any running."

"I'm not runnin'," said Logan.

"I don't run," growled Sabretooth.

"Fine," said Jack. "Strategic retreat, then."

"I can live with that," said Pam.

* * *

Hallow was as mannish and unpleasant as Marie remembered her to be, and Yvetta was as cheap as she'd ever been as a stripper in Fangtasia. The latter glared at Marie. The young mutant glared back, and only Logan's hand on her shoulder kept her from lunging at the witch and sucking the life out of her.

"I know what you want, witch," said Eric. They'd given him a brief rundown of what had happened prior to him losing his memories, and he was working from just the information they'd been able to give him. Fortunately, because of the Professor and his extraordinary telepathy, he'd been able to tell Eric just about everything he needed to know. Still, it was impressive that the vampire could be so calm and eloquent when he hardly remembered anything. "And you are not getting it."

"You sound so certain about that," said Hallow. "I took your memories, Eric Northman. I know I did, and I can take so much more from you. It's easier to work with me."

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't tend to take the path of least resistance," said Eric. "You have two choices. You can fight, and all of you will die, or you can _not_ fight, and only a few of you will die." _That_ had been Jack's idea. He'd plagiarized his nemesis, the infamous vampire lawyer that the AVL was employing. The line had been slightly altered, of course, but it was so appropriate that Jack said it would be a pity not to use it.

"Big words, vampire," said Hallow. "But you can't live up to them. I have more people behind me than you can possibly imagine."

"And I have more allies than you can think of," said Eric. "Believe me; there are power structures behind me that are beyond the wildest limits of your imagination." He didn't know anything about those power structures either. He simply knew that there were people out there willing to butt in and help him. Marie suspected the Mafia. Eric had ties to them, didn't he?

"It's true," Theodora added. "Trust me, messing with us is possibly the worst idea you could ever have."

"Who the hell are you? A sparklepire?" Hallow was quite accurate in her description. If there was ever a vampire who sparkled, it was Theodora. She had a thing for gold lamé pants and glittery tops, as well as big diamonds and lots and lots of bling. Subtle, she was not. That was what Yoda would say. Wait...why was she thinking about Yoda? Although, granted, the Professor was a bit like Yoda.

"Call me what you like," said Theodora. "I have no problem with being a sparklepire. After all, they're nigh indestructible, and they're aesthetically pleasing, which is more than I can say for you."

"Meh, it's the black," said Jack. "Take me advice; black makes you look like a corpse, lad."

"Excuse me?" said Hallow. "I am a woman."

"Really?" said Jack, looking her up and down. "You sure you ain't got somethin' dangly, mate?"

* * *

They probably thought he was mad, as usual, but there was logic behind the madness. Jack wasn't being insulting just for the sake of being insulting, although he did do that from time to time. He was trying to provoke the witch into doing something stupid. If he could get her to step inside the wards, then her powers would be more or less useless. Once they got the head witch, it wouldn't be too difficult to deal with all the other witches. To be quite honest, he didn't give a damn whether the witch was male or female, but he'd realized that accusing someone of being of the other sex usually angered them, for some strange reason. Except Will, of course, who had gotten pretty adept at ignoring Jack's insults, and Elizabeth, who threw the insults right back at him. It was a pity they weren't here. He would have loved to see pretty feminine Lizzie come up against the not-so-pretty-or-feminine Hallow. Ah, he did miss his friends sometimes. Barbossa, he couldn't care less about. However, if Elizabeth got involved in something, Barbossa usually also got involved as well, which was a pain.

"What the fuck?" Hallow spat. Aha! He'd hit a nerve. Now he'd just have to keep prodding it until she lost it completely.

"I was jus' askin'," said the pirate. "You don't look like a wench to me. Those lady lumps could be silicone, like hers." He jerked his head in the direction of the scantily clothed witch who used to be a dancer at Fangtasia. She reminded him a little of Scarlet and Giselle. "I mean, with modern medical technology—"

Hallow's hand snaked out to grab Jack. Jack was hardly expecting it, but if there was one thing Captain Jack Sparrow was good at, it was adapting. He dodged to one side before the talon-like fingers could wrap themselves around his throat. At that moment, Logan leapt for Hallow. Obviously, the Wolverine had had enough of being diplomatic. Within a split second, chaos had erupted. Hallow and Logan were wrestling on the ground. The witch's magic enhanced her physical strength, but otherwise, her powers were completely useless against the clawed mutant. It simply slid off him like water like a duck's feathers. Claudine had thrown up a magical shield. It was a hastily constructed one, so it wasn't as strong as anyone would have liked, but it was enough to temporarily hold off the spells that the other witches were throwing at them. Quinn had transformed into his feline self. He was much more likeable that way. He snarled at the witches, some of whom had also shifted into various animals.

Jack readied his pistols. Sure, they were antiques, but they'd saved his life more than once. Besides, they were much more aesthetically pleasing than modern guns. If the worst came to pass, then he'd still be able to shoot somebody. He wasn't looking to fight. When he did fight, he most often fought to run away. Unfortunately, this time, it didn't look as if he could run.

Bugger.

He felt a buzz in the air as Claudine hurriedly set up shields to stop the onslaught of spells that the entire coven of witches started throwing at them. It mustn't have been a good shield, because at least half of the spells got through.

Jack ducked as a bolt of light zoomed over his head. He had no time to see where it landed or what it did. The witches charged. So did the vampires. They were outnumbered, but Logan was more than holding his own against the head witch. Some of the witches were turning against their own, thanks to the interference of Charles Xavier. Jack was a little scared of that fellow. Who knew what he could do to him? The pirate preferred to keep his mind to himself, thank you very much. A head flew past him, having been ripped off by a bloodthirsty and ecstatic Eric Northman. He and Marie were fighting as if they were dancing a waltz. He lifted her and swung her around. Her booted feet connected with the head of a witch who'd been in the middle of muttering a jinx. The two of them reminded him a little of the Whelp and his Charming Murderess, actually. It made Jack a bit nostalgic.

He didn't have much time to think about that as he was knocked over by another young witch, who thought that he would be an easy target, for some reason. As he stumbled backwards, he slipped on the grass. Using the momentum of his fall, the threw the witch over his head before rolling right back to his feet. Captain Jack Sparrow, an easy target? Never.

* * *

Green light had gathered around Yvetta's hands, and she was about to throw whatever spell she had conjured up at Eric. Marie couldn't let that happen. Without thinking of her own safety, she lunged at the witch, dived at her feet and then grabbed her bare ankles with her bare hands. The green light faded as the power was absorbed by the young succubus. She felt the heat spreading through her body. It felt good, but wrong, like the buzz left by strong alcohol or a high from a joint of marijuana. Yvetta's mouth was open in a silent scream as she sank to the ground. Her veins were bulging beneath her translucent skin, and her pupils were so dilated that her irises had all but disappeared. Marie felt so elated and frightened at the same time. In fact, she was frightened by the elation that she was feeling at the prospect of killing someone. There was no need to kill after she'd incapacitated the witch, surely. She had no right to judge. It was wrong.

With great effort, she pulled her hand away, leaving Yvetta convulsing on the ground. There was no time to lose. Another spell was coming straight for her. Something incredibly fast knocked her to the ground and drove her breath from her lungs. The spell flew over her and missed. It was Bill who had knocked her out of the spell's trajectory. Yes, it seemed that some magic was subject to gravity. Eric was already onto the witch who'd tried to kill her. The witch tried to cast a spell on him, but he was too quick for him. His scream was cut short when he snapped his neck with his bare hands and then let the limp corpse drop.

One of the witches suddenly teleported and appeared next to where Bill and Marie were still on the ground, wooden stake in hand. Marie reached up and managed to stop the witch from stabbing the vampire on top of her by grabbing the witch's wrist. More power flowed through her; more elation, and more fear. Once again, she forced herself to let go before she actually killed someone. It was so hard to resist the temptation and the power. There was great power in holding someone else's life in her hands, literally. She scrambled to her feet as the witch dropped. Eric was by her side in an instant, having pushed Bill out of the way. Even in his amnesiac state, Eric Northman was still no fan of Bill Compton. The Nordic vampire grabbed her and kissed her right there and then, on the battlefield —well, Sookie's front yard— and in front of everyone. "You are magnificent, my warrior queen," he whispered, his voice husky with lust. Battles turned him on, amongst other things. "Now, try not to get killed before I have the time to do you homage."

* * *

Logan pinned Hallow to the ground and held her there, no matter how hard she struggled. He didn't know what was happening to him. The power he felt surging through his veins, the loud humming in his bones, the crackling energy all around him; none of this could possibly be natural. However, the more magic the witch tried to use against him, the more the power within him grew. Somehow, despite the fact that his rational mind was protesting against all of it, it felt right that he should be so powerful. He even began to see the golden light that outlined his hands and possibly the rest of his body. There was an unknown source of heat beneath his skin. His hand was at Hallow's throat. If she caused him too much trouble, it would be so easy to just crush her windpipe, not that he actually wanted to do it. The Wolverine didn't kill if he had a choice. It was just that all too often, he didn't have a choice.

"Stop!" he roared. "All of you! I have your leader, and if any one of you makes the wrong move, I'll kill her!" He hoped they cared enough. If they didn't, they'd be in deep shit, and that would still be the understatement of the year.

Perhaps he was lucky, or maybe there really was such a thing as a god, although he was leaning towards the former, because the witches did stop, although a couple of them did urge him to kill Hallow. Apparently, many of her coven members had been threatened into joining, and they hated her guts. "It's so much better to be respected than feared," Logan told the trapped Hallow. She couldn't do anything to him. He didn't know why, and he didn't especially care right now, as long as he didn't end up with his memories wiped again.

"Fuck you!" she spat at him.

"I bet you wish you could," said the Wolverine. "Unfortunately for you, I have standards, low as they are. You don't make the cut."

* * *

Thank God for rude, uncultured, atheist and amnesiac nephilim. There were very few people who could be hit directly by the spells of such a powerful witch and simply not be affected, at least not adversely. Theodora saw his power grow and his true nature begin to emerge. It was a beautiful thing to witness, and she could not believe that she was seeing it. Nephilim were rare. Nephilim who were not bent on conquering the world and who had so much compassion were even rarer. This was definitely Gabriel's son, not that there was much doubt about _that_ in the first place.

The witches who hadn't surrendered —a minority— had been rounded up and contained. Many of them were acting like zombies, thanks to Charles Xavier. That man was definitely something to reckon with; it was simply fortunate for all of them that he wasn't that ambitious and was altogether altruistic. The other witches, who had surrendered, were being interviewed for information about Hallow's plans and allies. They were right about the witch having vampire supporters. Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas, was mobilizing his army even as they were speaking. Theodora quickly made a series of phone calls to her sister and, more importantly, her father. Sibylla would be reluctant to outright intervene, even if she might secretly send agents down south or plan some financial sabotage, as she was so adept at doing, because she had her own kingdom and its welfare to worry about. She couldn't let all the other monarchs in the Americas view her as being more threatening to them than she already was.

However, Theodora's father, Eric's blood brother, had the means and the motivation to send in reinforcements. After all, he already had people in the United States. Humans, of course, but they were his humans—his human descendants, rather— and they were very loyal. Moreover, he didn't have to worry about the threat of other American vampire monarchs. They simply couldn't touch him, because he had far too much influence in the world arena, and not just in the vampire world.

The thing about her father was that he didn't limit his circle to supes. Rather, he preferred to use his own family. Ibelins stuck together; that was his life's philosophy, and he hadn't done too badly by sticking to it. Using family connections, he now ruled most of southern Europe, and had his fingers in just about every continent in the world. The family business of organized crime —amongst other things— spanned the globe. Balian was of the opinion that if he didn't organize it, there would be even more death and chaos in the world, because if he wasn't running it, someone else would be. Better him than someone else, because at least he had ethics and was rather effective at limiting collateral damage. There was no arguing with him on this point. Sometimes, she couldn't really stand her father because of their conflicting opinions, but she loved him, and he would do anything to help her. It was often said that Balian of Ibelin didn't have a heart. They said that when he was alive, and they were still saying it after he 'died'. However, they were all wrong. Her father's heart belonged to his family. He would die for her mother, and for her as well. There was never any doubt about that. It was just that Theodora wanted to make her own way as Theodora, not as part of the Ibelin dynasty, which was now better known as the Sicilian Mafia.

"Just tell me what you need, _ma fille_," said her father. "Eric's my brother; I would do anything he needs me to do."

"_Eric_ would probably prefer it if you stayed out of it, but we really need manpower, at this point in time," said Theodora. Her father agreed to mobilize the branches of the Mafia in the Americas. Most of them were situated in the north of the country, where there was money to be made, but some were in Florida, and there was actually a branch in Arkansas.

"Mississippi was too dangerous with Edgington as king, and Eric would not have ever spoken to me ever again if I stationed a mafia in Louisiana, so that left Arkansas," Balian explained. "I wanted someone in that area to monitor activity in the south. Your sister has very little influence down there."

"It's good to know that you're still pursuing your world domination plan, Papa," said Theodora drily. Seven hundred years—no, wait. It was closer to eight hundred. Eight hundred years, and her father hadn't changed one bit. He'd been ambitious as a human, and he was ambitious as a vampire.

"A man must have something to challenge him," her father replied.

"You mean to tell me that Mother has no part in this?"

"You know that your mother is involved in everything I do. We agree on everything." Oh, didn't she know that. It was hopeless, trying to get one parent to side with her. Her parents only ever sided with one another. They were so much in love that they were the male and female halves of the same person. She couldn't ever remember a time when they disagreed. "Has my brother regained his memories?"

"We're working on that," said Theodora as she glanced towards the living room, where Hallow's mind was being rifled through by Charles Xavier, who was taking this chance to show Sookie just how to look for thoughts that she wanted to hear, instead of simply listening to the thoughts that someone was thinking right at that moment. There was nothing better than practical learning, after all.

Hallow looked as if she was in great pain; she probably was, judging by the way she was fighting the intrusions into her mind. Charles finally released her and looked up to face all of them. "I have her method," he said.

* * *

Sookie's kitchen counter was obscured by jar upon jar of ingredients. They weren't normal ingredients either, because the glass jars contained things such as tarantula fangs and newts' eyeballs. Ew. Claudine and Theodora had both made phone calls, requesting back up and aid. The latter had contacted yet another group of witches in Britain this time, and asked them to send over ingredients for fixing memory spells. "This is rare," said the ex-vampire, holding up a small vial of white powder that looked just like chalk. "Powdered horn of a unicorn."

"There are unicorns?" said Sookie incredulously.

"Of course," said Theodora, setting the vial down carefully. "All those myths that you hear; they all have factual basis."

"So there are really leprechauns and they really have lots of gold," said Sookie.

"Yes," said Theodora. "But the gold disappears after one night, so it's useless."

"How come I never meet those kinds of supes?" muttered Sookie. It would be so much better than just vampires and werewolves. Granted, she'd met two faeries too, and one succubus, but still. Every little girl had wanted a unicorn of her own.

"They prefer the old world, and most of them are rare now, at least on this plane," said Claudine. "If you get a chance to visit my home, I promise you that you will see some, dear cousin, although you might find them to be less pleasant than you think they are. Leprechauns, for example, are tricky creatures."

"And they have personal hygiene problems," added Theodora as she hauled one of Gran's giant soup pots out of one of the cupboards. It completely dwarfed her. She set it on the stove. Her email was open, with a list of possible potions for memory loss. Claudine was studying them and comparing them with Hallow's spell. The two of them did discuss it, but most of that discussion went over Sookie's head. Judging by the glazed looks on everyone else's faces, none of them got it either.

The faerie and the ex-vampire began adding ingredients into the pot. Sookie was pretty sure she would never use that pot for cooking ever again. Claudine had to be careful not to touch the pot, because it was iron. She wore gloves and left most of the mixing to the other woman. "Stir it seven hundred and twenty degrees clockwise, and then five hundred and forty anti-clockwise," said the faerie.

"It makes a difference?" said Logan.

"Of course," said Claudine. "Magic is a very precise craft. One degree extra clockwise could mean all the difference."

"Which is why the art of potion making is so difficult to master," said Theodora. "Other things, such as regular charms and jinxes, have a certain amount of room for error."

"Inaccuracy in potion-making is disastrous," said Claudine. "I believe the human equivalent is Chemistry."

"I never really got Chemistry," said Logan.

"You just don't get science," said Mystique, earning herself a glare from the Wolverine.

The resulting concoction looked like pond scum and smelled even worse. Actually, one of the ingredients _had_ been a certain type of pond scum. There was also blood, taken from both Eric and Hallow, as well as Marie, because her presence had actually influenced Hallow's spell. Powdered unicorn horn had gone in next, followed by three tongues from horned toads, which had been ground into a disgusting paste. There was an entire host of other ingredients, most of which were disgusting. Sookie felt a bit sorry for Eric. After all, he was the one who'd have to drink the potion.

"This should do it," said Theodora as she ladled some of that disgusting stuff into Sookie's favourite coffee mug, which immediately ceased to be her favourite.

"Is this drinkable?" asked Eric as he took the mug a little distrustfully. It was hard to blame him. Sookie would ask the same question if she were in his place.

"Just try not to think about it, vampire," said Claudine sympathetically.

Eric sniffed the mixture, which was still steaming, and the expression of disgust on his face was comical. He steeled himself, and then poured the mixture down his throat. Just as well he didn't need to breathe. Immediately, he started coughing and choking, probably from the taste. Both potion makers looked nervous as they waited for their concoction to work...or not. Usually, when a vampire consumed something that was not blood, they would immediately throw it back up. That didn't happen with the potion. Granted, they'd used True Blood as a base, instead of 'Centaur's milk'. That probably made it more vampire-friendly.

He sat down. If his face could have grown paler, if would have. As it was, he just looked ill. "Eric?" said Pam. "Come on, do _not_ scare me. Say something!"

"I remember," he whispered. "Everything. It's as if it all happened yesterday. It's...it's..." Well, considering how vast his memories were and how bloody they must be, it would be quite overwhelming for it all to come rushing back at once, in HD as well.

"You're not gonna have an emotional breakdown, are you, bub?" asked Logan. "Because it's okay, y'know."

"Of course not," Eric snapped. Eric Northman did _not_ have emotional breakdowns. Sookie wondered if Logan ever did, judging by his question and his opinion that it was all right to have one. "I'm fine." It wasn't as convincing as he'd meant for it to be, and everyone knew it. Theodora pointed at the living room, indicating that everyone should just leave him alone for a moment to get his thoughts together. Eric was Eric. He would survive.

They started to file out of the kitchen, but Eric stopped them. "I am a recovering amnesiac, not an invalid," he said. His temper was short. No one could blame him, really. The fact that he was having an adverse reaction to everything that had happened actually convinced Sookie that there was more human in him that he would care to admit. Perhaps he wouldn't be so bad for Marie after all. "I need to deal with Arkansas. Any new reports?"

"They're mobilizing," said Theodora. "Judging by the speed they're heading towards Louisiana, I'd say they would reach Shreveport by two in the morning, if not earlier."

"How do you know their speed?" asked Logan.

"I hacked a few traffic cameras," said Mystique.

"How many do they have?" demanded Eric. "I want all the details."

"I'd say two to three hundred," said Theodora. "We have fifty in Shreveport right now, not counting the mutants. Sibylla's not sending anyone over, although but the Mafia branch in Arkansas is mobilizing as we speak. They'll attack Threadgill's headquarters in five hours and ten minutes."

"What..._Mafia_?" said Logan. At the same time, Eric leapt to his feet.

"You called Balian?" he demanded.

"Of course I called my father!" said Theodora indignantly. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. I actually managed to convince him not to personally come. You know he would've."

"It would be an effective way to prevent an attack on Louisiana from being successful, if your father's men attack Arkansas," said Claudine. "But are they prepared enough? We are dealing with vampires, not your regular...what do you call them?"

"Gangsters," Sookie supplied.

"My father is a vampire himself. Trust me; our people know how to deal with fangsters."

* * *

Her Eric was back...well, normal Eric was back. Eric didn't belong to anyone except himself, really, and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Still, there was every reason for her to be both happy and nervous. Marie's life now seemed like a constant war, although, if given the choice, she'd have made the same decisions all over again. There was nothing that she regretted. Not at all. Finally, she'd found her place in the world. She'd never thought she'd come this far, to be honest.

She pulled on her uniform. That fabric never ceased to amaze her. It also made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She did not have the body of a supermodel and she knew it. Ideally, if it had been up to here, there would be a couple of places on her that would be a lot more prominent, and some that would not be so prominent.

"I do love that uniform on you," said Eric, poking his head around the door. She saw him leering at her in the mirror. That was a great way to boost one's self confidence. Granted, Eric's tastes weren't the best, if one were to look at things critically —he'd slept with Yvetta, after all, as well as a host of other fangbangers— but it still gave her a real thrill to think that he wanted her, and had wanted her enough to reject sexual advances from the likes of the stripper witch, who, by the way, was being held in poor Bill's house. Speaking of which, she really ought to thank Bill for saving her life during the battle.

"You do know that a closed door indicates that the person within wants privacy, right?" said the mutant, not that embarrassed at all. Eric had seen all of her, after all. Come to think of it, he'd pretty much licked all of her too. And she was only putting on her uniform at the moment, not taking a bath or something like that.

"I don't think you mind me intruding on your privacy, my little succubus," he said as he glided behind her to help her zip up the back of the suit, gently lifting her hair out of the way.

"Please, don't start on that," groaned Marie. Yes, this succubus business was confusing and tiring. It was also a possible indicator that her mother had cheated on her father with a female, which was disturbing on its own. One did not like to think of one's parents having sex. "It doesn't change anything. I'm still me."

"Oh, I know that, but it does explain some things," mused Eric as he gently stroked her neck. If she let him continue along this vein, she was going to end up undressed again very soon. It wasn't constructive, considering they were going to be fighting for the sovereignty of Louisiana very soon. "It does explain your prowess, if you get my meaning. Succubae are very sexual creatures."

"Now you make it sound as if you like me because of the sex, and nothing else," she said, pushing him away in mock hurt. "And really, this power sucks, no pun intended."

"Now, now, my lover. You know better than that," he said. "By the way, I appreciate your power, although it's not the only thing I appreciate." That was _almost_ like saying he had feelings for her. She knew him well enough to know that he hated having feelings and spent a lot of his time trying to convince himself that he was a pragmatic heartless bastard. The vampire grew slightly more solemn. "You know, when I was...cursed, I still remembered the way you felt to me. It helped." This was the closest Eric would ever come to admitting that he was emotionally dependent, or in any way dependent, on others. If there was anything that he really treasured, it was his independence. "Theodora told me that you interrupted Hallow's spell."

"Succubus powers," said Marie. "I know."

"It's not just that," said Eric. "What do you know of magic?"

"Not much; just that it's not scientific."

"Magic is very much dependent upon the will of the wielder. My niece speculates that your loyalty to me caused your power to interfere with the witch's magic, and lessen its effect." She knew exactly what he was trying to say. He was trying to, in a very roundabout way that wouldn't ruin his reputation, thank her for the way she felt about him. It helped that she could sense his emotions through the skin contact. She stood on her tiptoes, pulled him down, and kissed him on the lips. There was no better way of saying, 'you're welcome'.

"Let's hope that my loyalty and succubus powers will help us win this battle too," she said a little breathlessly after the kiss finally ended. If she didn't need to breathe, their kisses probably would never end.

"I have no doubt about your skills, my lover," said the vampire. "But do be careful, and try not to get killed or blown up, or else I'll have to kiss you a lot more to make sure that you don't experience more explosions than kisses."

"If I remember clearly, you don't mind doing it. It was you who insisted on kissing me in the first place."

"Are you implying that I started it? Lover, I was only responding to your body's requests."

"Will you not claim responsibility for what you did, Mr. Northman? I was only a poor innocent girl with very little experience back then. You are my corrupter."

"Believe me, Lover. You wanted _very_ _much_ to be corrupted. I did you a favour."

There was a cough at the door. "As much as I like dirty talk meself, we gotta discuss some borin' battle strategies, savvy?" said Jack. "So hurry along now. Ye can twist yerselves into nasty positions later. Mebbe ye can give ole Jack a demonstration, eh?"

Eric growled at the lawyer, who gave him a brilliant grin and a little bow before sauntering off to annoy the next person on his list.

* * *

"Sookie, may I speak with you in private?"

Bill's request could not have come at a worse time. Sookie was far too worried about the impending battle to dwell on her relationship problems. Within two months, she'd had two bad relationships. Things were not looking good for her on this front, and really, she did _not_ need to be reminded of how Bill had stalked and betrayed her. She thought about that enough already. "This is not a good time, Bill," she said, a little more curtly than she'd intended to.

"Now may be the only time," said the Civil War veteran. "Sookie, I know you may find it difficult to forgive me. I'm finding it difficult to forgive myself, but—"

"Bill, when I said not now, I meant not now," said the telepath as patiently as she could. If there hadn't been a battle looming before her, that vampire wouldn't even _be_ in her house right now. She just didn't want to see him. "I don't want to hear any of this. I'm not ready to hear it."

"I must say it now, however, or else I fear I might not ever have the courage to say it again," said the vampire.

"No, stop," said Sookie, holding up a hand. "I know what you're trying to say, Bill. I know you still have feelings for me, but it's over between us. Yes, you didn't know me when you watched the Rattrays beat me to almost to death and did nothing, but I just can't be in a relationship with someone who would just stand there whilst someone's dying right before their eyes."

"You must remember that I am vampire—"

"Maybe, but that only convinces me that I don't want to be in a relationship with any vampire."

"Sookie, I love you."

"I'm flattered, Bill, but I don't love you." She'd spent long enough convincing herself of that. There would always be some part of her that ached for him, or rather, for the relationship she'd thought they'd had before the illusion had shattered. The worst part was that he could sense it, thanks to his blood in her system. "And whatever it is that you feel, that's just the blood talking. You tricked me into falling in love with you. It's a lie; it's a drug induced _lie_."

"Sookie, please—"

"Just leave me alone, and don't make it worse than it already is, all right? I don't have eternity, and I don't want to waste any more time on whatever it was that we had."

"Is this what you thought it was? A waste of time? The blood does not create feelings. It only enhances what is already there. What you felt for me, and what you are still feeling, is real, Sookie. What we had was real...mostly. And for what is worth, my feelings for you are real too. I did not have to feign interest. From the moment you risked your life to save mine, I was interested in you."

"As a project, of course."

"Not entirely. I will admit that when I first met you, you were only something I was sent to procure, but after that...it was difficult. I owed my queen fealty, but I also wanted you because of who you are, and I wanted to protect you. It was a moral dilemma for me."

"You wanted to protect me, so you let two psychos beat me _almost_ to death before intervening and taking the chance to feed me your blood, which, by the way, will tie me to you for as long as I live. Thanks, but I don't need that kind of 'protection'."

"I do not deny that I fed you my blood mostly out of selfish reasons, but it was also to save your life and to ensure that I would know when you were in danger." Bill cast his eyes downward. "I know that I do not have much of a chance of regaining your favour, but I just want you to know that no matter where you go or who you're with, Sookie Stackhouse, you will always have my love and loyalty. I owe you that much."

* * *

**A/N: **I believe this is the beginning of Mopey Bill that we're all pretty much familiar with. I can't help but feel a little bit sorry for him. Even though what he's done is unforgivable, it doesn't mean that he shouldn't get a chance to redeem himself and change himself for the better. And yes, I am bringing in elements of Harry Potter because those witches and wizards are going to get a cameo. This is a smorgasbord crossover.


	39. The Graduates

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. **

**Chapter 39: The Graduates**

The selected battleground was Fangtasia. Sophie-Ann was hurriedly sent away, locked in a padded silver casket, to New York, where Sybille would be more than happy to keep her prisoner for as long as Northman needed her to. That meant that Mystique and the Professor had to go back up north. Mystique was the pilot, and Charles was there to make sure that Sophie-Ann didn't escape from the casket —highly unlikely— and hijack the jet somehow. Besides, he'd come down to Louisiana to help Eric with his amnesia, not fight battles. Charles Xavier was a well-known pacifist.

Their choice proved to be a good one, because an hour after they arrived at Fangtasia —Mystique had flown them up there on her way to pick up the imprisoned queen— the Arkansas party arrived. They came in shiny black convertibles, the modern day version of war chariots, and surrounded the nightclub.

Northman and his party met the Arkansas Vampires outside the club in the parking lot behind the club. He'd made phone calls to just about all his employees who were capable of fighting. LeBeau was going to be there, and he'd asked some of his fellow Shreveport mutants to help out as well. There were about ten Shreveport mutants, two New York mutants, fifty Shreveport vampires and twenty New York vampires who'd been shipped here by express, courtesy of one queen of New York. It wasn't enough, but that was all they could scrounge up in such short time.

At this time of night, the streets were mostly deserted. All the shops on this street were closed, and since the club wasn't open for business, there were no fangbangers hanging around either. It was one of the safest places for a confrontation, barring the forest behind Sookie's house. However, there was no way in the world that Sookie would let them turn her backyard into a battlefield again. At any rate, Logan wouldn't have agreed. He didn't want to put his girls in danger, which was why they were staying there with Theodora and Claudine guarding them. If he'd had his way, they'd have been on that flight to New York.

Threadgill reminded Logan of one of those preppy bad boys on television. He'd put so much hair gel in his hair that it was stiff enough to be the spines of a porcupine. His eyes were set far apart, and his nose was thin and pointed, like that of a rat. In fact, his entire demeanour was reminiscent of a rodent, and not a cute cuddly one, at that. "Well, well, Eric Northman," said the King of Arkansas. "I see that you were too much for the witches."

"I am too much for anyone," said Northman. "So, a friendly word of advice, your majesty; it would be wise if you headed back to your kingdom now and put an end to all notions of taking over Louisiana. You won't succeed."

"Perhaps you have not noticed that my vampires are surrounding you, and that we outnumber you."

"Perhaps _you_ have not noticed that your kingdom is in a very bad shape right now, and if you don't head back, not only will you not get Louisiana, you will no longer have Arkansas either."

"Lies. My kingdom is fine." Threadgill lifted his hand to signal an attack, but Northman interrupts him before he could. Rather than addressing the enemy king, the Nordic vampire turned to his followers.

"What's in it for you?" he asked. "Are you really so sick of your immortality? If you fight, a lot of you will die. That's a fact." He resembled a male lion defending his pride against a pack of scraggly intruders. His menacing stance and impressive stature intimidated many an enemy vampire, instilling the seeds of doubt within them. Obviously he had a reputation for being a fearsome fighter in the vampire world. Logan didn't know a lot about Northman, but he'd pretty much assumed he was a top predator, even _before_ he'd even seen him fight properly, that first time he'd met him. He just looked it.

"What have you to gain from this?" Northman continued. No one spoke. Perhaps they were all thinking about it. Essentially, vampires were selfish creatures. That was the most basic way to put it. They hardly ever did anything that didn't benefit themselves. They weren't even very good at team work, like other apex predators. Of course, there were some exceptions. Northman's progeny was one, or perhaps the Viking himself was just very good at inspiring loyalty. "Are you so ready to risk your lives for Peter Threadgill's ambition and greed? If it's wealth you want, stand over on my side. I can give it to you."

"Don't listen to him," snarled Threadgill when he sensed that his followers were paying a lot of attention to what Northman was saying. One could hardly blame him for feeling threatened. Northman was the type of man —vamp— that commanded attention, no matter how much you wanted to ignore him. It wasn't possible. Now, Logan was not easily impressed by anyone, but he had to reluctantly admit that his ally impressed him. _That_ was a rare thing. "He is a mere sheriff. I am king!"

"That is true," Northman conceded, "but what sort of king _are_ you, Threadgill? In the past four years, your expenditure has exceeded your income. Some of your people haven't been paid for a few months, I believe. Humans mostly, of course, but it will only be time before you cannot afford to pay your vampires either. Perhaps you thought that annexing Louisiana would improve your finances. I assure you that it won't happen, unless you develop a better mind for business, which I doubt you can."

"And _you_ think you can give them what I can't?" demanded Threadgill, outraged that Northman would dare to accuse him being incompetent.

"Your majesty, forgive me, but my businesses have experienced _growth_ in the past decade," said the Nordic vampire nonchalantly. "I have managed to turn in profit every year, despite the fact that I am not the one committing tax fraud continuously."

"You!" hissed Threadgill, but he was helpless. "You have no proof!"

"Are you sure about that?" With each exchange, Northman grew more confident, not that he'd ever lacked confidence before. Threadgill's vampires, however, looked less and less willing to fight for their king.

"I've heard enough," snarled the King of Arkansas. "I want the Viking's head! Now!" None of his vampires moved. Northman smirked. "It is treason to disobey your king!"

"Don't be so selfish, your majesty," said the Nordic vampire. "If you really want what I have, perhaps we should fight it out between ourselves, like two true vampires. This does not involve _them_, after all. It's between you and me." There was no answer. Threadgill looked torn between feeling afraid and outraged. He was outraged that his people were not obeying him, and he was afraid of what would happen if he answered the other vampire. It was obvious that he was no match physically —and politically and financially— for Northman, who'd proven that he had brains as well as brawn. Threadgill was a foot shorter than Northman, and he was scrawny. Really, Logan doubted that there was enough blood in him for vamp drainers to make a profit off him. Also, if appearances were anything to go by, Threadgill was no fighter. He was a schemer.

"This is not over, Northman," snarled Threadgill. He made no move to accept the challenge. Logan assumed that he wouldn't. In fact, it looked as if the King of Arkansas was backing down. That was what stepping backwards meant in Logan's world, and he was sure that it meant the same thing in the vampire world. "I'll see you at the Tribunal."

"I look forward to it," said the Viking, sounding very sure of himself. Well, he had no reason to harbour any doubts. He'd just won a battle by talking. As quickly as they had arrived, the vampires from Arkansas left.

"You're not really looking forward to this tribunal thing, are you?" asked Logan.

"I just _love_ being cross-examined by people who want to stake me," said Northman. "Of course I am not looking forward to it, but it cannot be avoided, so I might as well not waste any energy on dreading it."

"Ah, that tribunal's gonna be spectacular, matey," said Jack, coming up from behind the two much taller men. He draped an arm around Northman's shoulder, causing everyone to stare. One, the vampire regent barely tolerated physical contact from anyone who wasn't either his child or a woman he wanted to have sex with, and two, he _never_ tolerated such intimate gestures in public, unless it was from a woman he wanted to have sex with. Jack was neither a woman nor someone the vampire was remotely attracted to. Maybe Northman was so shocked that the lawyer would dare to do such a thing that he forgot to take the man's arm off. "You'll see me at me best, mark me words."

"I hope his grammar improves by then," muttered Pam. "Along with his breath."

* * *

One thing seemed to come right on the tail of another. They just couldn't catch a break. Then again, when had she ever been able to catch a break ever since her powers had manifested? Her life had been a continuous series of trouble since then, although, granted, the action meant that she was hardly ever bored, unlike a lot of other people.

Rhodes; the site of their next trial, literally. It was a city that looked like the twin of Chicago, very close to Chicago. The city overlooked Lake Michigan, and it boasted a great number of vampire friendly hotels, the largest and most expensive of which was the Pyramid of Gizeh, which was where the entire summit was to take place. At first, when Eric had said Rhodes, Marie had thought that he'd meant Rhodes in Greece. She would have preferred that.

"Why Illinois?" she'd asked Eric.

"Illinois is the vampire version of Switzerland," the vampire had said. "The American Vampire Authority is based there." He'd smiled. "Of course, now that they've been suspended, Illinois has been taken over by a group of vampires from the Old World. That works in my favour."

"How so?"

"I have many links in the Old World."

That had been all Eric had told her. They had gotten distracted in the middle of their discussion, and her vampire had been hungry, amongst other things. It had been an extremely good thing that they'd been at his place, instead of at Sookie's. The amount of noise they'd made would have frightened her cousin, and it would have been awfully embarrassing for any neighbours to hear them. Eric's house was soundproof.

At the moment, Rhodes glowed like a luminescent jellyfish in the deepest ocean trenches. The Pyramid of Gizeh was lit by ground lights shining upwards, casting a golden glow on the building of steel and one-way bulletproof glass that kept the sunlight out at all times. Apparently, not everyone had adopted Sybille's cutting edge technology of LED screen windows which allowed vampires to see 'sunlight' if they could keep awake during the day. Although, come to think of it, considering the fact that most vampires could not do such a thing, the LED windows were quite superfluous.

"It's quite fittin' that a hotel for vamps mirrors Egyptian burial crypts," Logan remarked as the limo pulled up outside the hotel. Yes, he'd come along too, for a show of manpower. It hadn't been his idea, of course, but their newest ally, the Queen of New York, had thought that it was a good idea for Eric to display his influence to the panel of judges, whose identities were yet unknown.

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Wolverine," remarked Eric drily from opposite the mutant.

"I wanted to rob an Egyptian tomb," remarked Jack, ever the industrious pirate. "But the tomb robbers bet me to it. It was a pity. I love Egyptian jewellery. Those death masks..."

"I suppose you _would_ walk around wearing an Egyptian death mask, Jack," said Theodora, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.

"They're stylish! Hey, luv, you think you can get me one?"

"An Egyptian death mask? Why would I do that? That is, unless you want to make funeral preparations, in which case I would consider your request since it seems rather cruel to deny a dying man."

"Can't a fellow just want to wear one?"

"Jack, it's a _death_ mask," said Sookie. "Live people aren't supposed to wear death masks."

"This is discrimination against the livin', I'm tellin' ya," said the lawyer with a pout. He crossed his arms and tried his best to look sulky and pitiful, and quite successfully too. "'Sides, there ain't no law that says I can't wear a death mask if I own one." His monologue might have continued if the chauffeur had not chosen that moment to open the back door of the limo, thus saving them from having to listen to Jack's rant about why he ought to get an Egyptian death mask. If he hadn't been a supposedly brilliant lawyer, he'd have been killed a long time ago.

The Louisiana party, which included imprisoned queen, had booked the entire seventh floor. They did have a huge number, including a good many sheriffs and their seconds. Eric had only brought Pam and Bill in the way of vampires, leaving Chow in charge of the bar —yes, Chow had been allowed to sit on the throne and play emperor during Eric's absence— but he'd made up for the lack of vampires with a horde of mutants. The Professor hadn't been able to come, but he'd sent pretty much the entire X-Men team to Rhodes. Eric had had to pay for it, of course, but the vampire hadn't seen a problem with that.

It was actually rather amusing, having someone like Logan in a five star hotel. He was a guy who was used to seedy bed-and-breakfasts. Sure, he'd been to the Hotel Carmilla in Dallas, but that had only been a three star. He was like a mammoth in a crystal shop. Not a good mix.

"Have you seen the prices on that menu?" Logan asked as he tried to pick out a snack. "I mean, twenty dollars for a cheeseburger and coleslaw? Are they fucking crazy?"

"You should be glad that they serve human food," Sookie pointed out. "I've read that some vampire hotels don't. And we are in a recession."

"I ain't wastin' money on this shit," said Logan, snapping the menu shut. "There's gotta be a McDonald's somewhere in this goddamn city, right?"

"Mate, if the moon had a restaurant, it would be a branch of McDonald's," said Jack as Logan threw on his jacket. His bike was parked under the hotel. They'd had to make special arrangements with Anubis Airlines for transporting his bike, but the Wolverine had refused to leave it behind, bringing up the fact that the last time he'd done that, he'd been stuck in a traffic jam for fifteen minutes whilst trying to rescue someone. "Bring me back some nuggets, will ya?"

There was a knock on the door at that moment. It was Eric. "Is there something wrong with the hotel's food?" he asked with a frown. "I believe that what is offered here is considered gourmet cuisine by human gastronomists."

"Gastronomists are posers," said Logan with a snort, never one to pull any punches. "I mean, fois gras? I ain't payin' fifty bucks to put a piece of fat in my stomach."

"I think the cost is part of the appeal," said Eric with a straight face. "It inflates the ego, to think that you can afford to buy something so small for such a large price. Just like Royalty Blended. But I didn't come to talk about food prices. We need a plan of attack. The trial starts the night after tomorrow at seven."

"Wot's there to plan?" asked Jack. "I work best thinkin' on me feet, savvy?"

"You should at least consider what sort of man your opponent is, and look at the evidence," said Sookie.

"Pfft. I _know_ Cutler Beckett. Been fightin' him for centuries. He's me cousin."

* * *

Eric certainly hadn't been expecting that. However, in the brief time that he'd known Jack Sparrow, he'd come to understand that he couldn't possibly know what to expect from his lawyer. Was this an advantage or an inconvenience? If Sparrow knew Beckett that well, then wouldn't the reverse also be true? Or, was Beckett amongst the very many people who simply didn't know what to expect from the pirate-turned-lawyer?

"Cutler? Understand _me_?" asked Jack, offended that his employer could even think such a thing. "I don't think so, mate. _No_ one understands the brilliant Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?" He waved his arm in a wide arc and splashed some rum onto the carpet. "I am _unpredictable_ and _brilliant_ and _genius_ and—"

"And I'm a telepath," said Sookie. "You know what that means, _Captain_?"

"But you ain't gonna read my mind because it's too disturbin' for ya, luvvie, eh?"

"That goat thing was enough to put me off forever."

"Darlin', you're so..._unadventurous_. You wanna come out for a second dinner wiv me?"

* * *

"I can sense that you are worried, my lover." The sound of his voice startled her so much that she jumped and almost slipped on the wet tiles of the bathroom, where she'd just gotten out of the shower. Really, vampires did not understand that it was not considered polite to barge into a bathroom without knocking. Then again, maybe Eric just didn't care, considering the fact that his clothes seemed to have gone MIA. God, he was beautiful, surrounded by steam and leaning against the wall with one arm stretched up to show off his body to the best effect. As if he wasn't already deadly enough.

"Jesus, Eric! You scared me!" she said as she reached for the towel. "And yes, I am worried. I'm not going to lie. I'm scared."

"You don't have to be afraid," he said, pushing off the wall and taking slow deliberate steps towards her. He loomed over her, all six foot four of his magnificence. She'd known him for months now, yet his completely masculine beauty never ceased to amaze her. She couldn't believe that out of all the women who'd been more than happy for his attention, he'd chosen her. The way he made her feel when he...wait. They'd been talking about the trial.

"Eric, you're being accused of treason and drug dealing. I don't know about the vampire world, but in the human world, treason brings a death sentence."

"Just because I'm being accused of it does not mean that I'll be charged. You ought to have more faith in my ability, and that of the lawyer."

"Forgive me if I don't have much faith in Jack. The last I heard, you didn't have much faith in him either."

"I'm beginning to understand why Sybille recommended him." He paused. "Can you take that towel out of the way? You're ruining my view."

"You are so...so..."

"I am what, Lover?"

"You're impossible!"

"Yes, I believe you told me so when you said I defy the laws of science and gravity. Therefore, in the same vein, I will defy these odds and emerge victorious. Besides, winning the trial isn't just about having evidence and a good lawyer. It's about the judges."

She raised an eyebrow at him. What was he playing at now? Eric might be a law enforcer, but he didn't seem to have a very high regard for the law. Was he bribing the judges or blackmailing them?

"No, I am not doing anything illegal to manipulate the judges," said Eric with a sigh. "Do you really think so little of me, Marie?"

"I don't think any part of you is 'little' by any definition," said Marie. "But what did you mean by the trial being about the judges if you're not doing anything to them? Do you know who they are? Are they on our side?"

"I don't have an exact identity, but I know that Theodora's been rather secretive and incredibly busy," said Eric. "Extrapolating for that, I think the judges are associates of hers. Add in the fact that she works for the highest vampire authority in existence, and I assume that the judges are rather important people who would be able to understand that my act of treason is, in fact, a legitimate coup d'état."

"The V?"

"I was forced and then framed."

"What about that counter raid?"

"There is a complete lack of evidence."

"Except I am involved."

"Which is why I find it odd that you are worrying about me when you should be worrying about yourself."

Now, why hadn't she thought of that? Damn him. He was always right. He slid a hand under her chin, tilted her head up and then laid a gentle kiss on her forehead before moving downwards, kissing both her eyes, her nose, before finally her mouth. She shivered under his touch. He was so gentle; his protectiveness seeped through the skin contact. Her hand slowly reached up to cup his face. His stubble was rough beneath the skin of her palm. Even though he was a deadly predator and she knew it, he somehow made her feel extremely safe. "For the record, you don't have to worry about that either. No vampire authority can prosecute you for breaking vampire law to rescue another vampire. You're out of their jurisdiction. I will not let anything happen to you. Neither will your Wolverine, and if my lawyer knows what's good for him, he won't either. Trust me."

"I do."

"Good. Now, let me show you just how _not_ little I am."

* * *

The sense of trepidation was so great that Marie thought that she might faint from it. From his place at the front of the room, Eric glanced back at her and raised an eyebrow. She gave him a forced smile and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down. In. Out. In. Out. Eric was going to be fine. He'd said so himself. Beside her, Logan gave her gloved hand a squeeze.

"Don't worry about him," he said gruffly. "That Northman's a survivor. He'll get through this and you two can get back to being sickening in absolutely no time."

"Thanks, Logan," she whispered back. The Wolverine might be completely insensitive at times, but he'd always been a considerate friend and guardian to her. She didn't know what she'd do without him. He was the pillar that she leaned against.

Just like every other courtroom, the spectators were whispering and murmuring amongst themselves, speculating about the outcome of the trial. At the front, the two lawyers were shooting glares at one another. Jack even made a very immature face at 'Lord' Cutler Beckett when he thought no one was looking. In return, Beckett flipped him the bird. That was an interesting development. By any standards, these two lawyers were not behaving professionally at all. Then again, they_ were_ cousins. They had to be related to hate each other that much.

Silence fell when Quinn announced the entrance of the panel of judges. There were five of them, in total, they'd learned, but no one knew who they were, until now. The chief of them was an ancient blind female vampire who went by the name of the Ancient Pythoness. In her 'human' life, if it could be called that, she'd been the oracle whose counsel Alexander the Great had sought. Due to her valuable power, a vampire had turned the old woman so that they could have her power forever. That was the way vampires operated. If they saw a gift that they would like to see preserved, they brought the person with the gift over to their side, willingly or unwillingly.

Escorting the Ancient Pythoness was another judge, one of the vampires who'd helped to establish the American Vampire Authority, but had then returned to Europe. Now he was back to clean out the organization that he'd established. According to Queen Sybille, who was sitting in their section with her retinue and explaining the proceedings, he'd been a philosopher and clergyman in the court of King Francis I during the early sixteenth century, and had been quite close to Leonardo Da Vinci during his years in the French court.

Much to the surprise of the Louisiana party, Theodora was amongst the panel of judges. Gone were the bling and the sequins. She, like the rest of the others, was in sombre dark robes. For the first time, it wasn't hard to believe that she was an eight hundred year old who perpetually looked seventeen. Up until now, Marie hadn't quite realized just how high up the ex-vampire was in the hierarchy. Now, she was beginning to get some idea.

After her was a woman who turned every head in the room, male and female alike. There was no denying that she was beautiful. Oh no. Perhaps she was the most beautiful creature Marie had ever seen, making even airbrushed supermodels on the covers of magazines look plain. Her thick dark hair, her faint traces of a once healthy tan, and that absolutely perfect bone structure already put her at an advantage appearance-wise. But it wasn't just physical perfection that made her stunning. She held herself like a queen. Hell, she probably was one. Her clear grey eyes, piercing and serene at the same time, held the wisdom of very many years. She was a woman who had done a lot and seen a lot, and her name was Helen, formerly of Sparta but now the vampire queen of Northern Germany, the former Czechoslovakia, and Poland. Her territory had been renamed the New Spartan Empire by commentators. These European rulers all seemed to have empires.

The last judge, however, was no vampire, nor was he remotely related to one. He was at least seven feet tall, dwarfing even Sabretooth. And he was mostly naked, save for a colourful feathered headdress, a jewelled golden breastplate, and a feathered loincloth, as well as a lot of rings in his nose, ears, and on his fingers. This was Quetzalcoatl, the Great Feathered Serpent of Mesoamerican mythology, in his human form. Apparently, he wasn't so mythological after all. All the other judges treated him with utmost reverence. Apparently, he was not a god, but a dragon from the Otherworld, and he was here because he was pissed off as hell that a vampire sorcerer had dared to steal power from his vortex, even though it was partly his fault because he'd been asleep for close to five hundred years.

Sitting on the table before the judges was a long sword with a slight curve, ancient in make and with a blade that was at least five feet long. This was one of the Seven Swords of Atlantis. Up until now, most vampires hadn't believed in the old history which said that the first vampires had been created from a spell gone wrong during the waning days of the Atlantean Empire. The sword, being the weapon of the Atlantean warlock who had become one of the two first vampires, proved that the legend was real. The sword was not only a symbol of the Atlantean, but also a symbol of justice and most likely the sword that was going to be used for executions.

"Bring forth your case," said Queen Helen once everyone had been seated.

The defendants and the prosecutors stepped forward, glaring at one another. The American Vampire Authority's lawyer was a short vampire who dressed as if he was still living in the seventeenth century, with cropped breeches, knee high socks, buckle shoes and a coat with epaulets. Like some human lawyers, he also wore a curly white wig that showed that he was a gentleman. He announced himself as 'Lord' Cutler Beckett. Apparently, Eric was not the only vampire with a huge ego. The only difference was that Eric had a reason to be so egotistical.

"My lords and ladies," said Beckett in slow and precise English, sounding posher than royalty. "Tonight, the American Vampire Authority is accusing Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five Louisiana, of high treason against the Authority, violation of the sacredness of the blood, and overstepping the boundaries of his jurisdiction. In addition, Sophie Ann LeClerq, Queen of Louisiana, would also like to file charges against Sheriff Northman for treason and unlawful detainment of a monarch." Looking pleased with himself, Beckett bowed his head to the panel of judges and stepped down from his podium.

Jack cleared his throat. It was his turn. "Eric Northman, Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five, Regent of Louisiana, External affairs liaison and—" he began.

"Get to the point, Captain Sparrow," said Theodora.

"—will be defending himself against these baseless accusations."

"This court will deal with one issue at a time in chronological order," said Queen Helen. She probably had the charges all written out in front of her. "Eric Northman, Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five, is accused of high treason against the American Vampire Authority. Cutler Beckett prosecutes. Jack Sparrow defends. Before the trial commences, would any of my fellow judges like to make an opening statement?"

So far, it all sounded incredibly human. Jack hadn't gone too over the top, apart from when he had been listing Eric's titles —having made up some on the spot. The lawyer loved to hear himself talk.

"I would like to add that high treason is a serious accusation," she said. "It is a serious offence to wrongfully accuse someone of having committed it. Do you wish to proceed, representatives of the American Vampire Authority?"

"We do," said Nan Flanagan.

They all took their places. Cutler Beckett laid out the details of the case. "Eric Northman commissioned his mutants to attack the forces of the Authority after they had seized his...establishment," said Beckett.

"Where's your proof?" asked Jack lazily.

"I'm getting to it," snapped Beckett. "The mutants have worked for him on numerous occasions—"

"Circumstantial evidence, only," said Jack. "Unless you find somethin' solid, mate, this case is gonna get thrown out."

"Let him finish, Captain Sparrow," said Queen Helen.

"As I was saying," said Beckett, giving Jack a glare, "these mutants are obviously in Northman's employ. They knew exactly where to go and how to get out when attacking the forces of the authority, and the only explanation is that Northman planned the attack and coordinated it."

"Proof?" said Jack.

"Magister, would you like to speak?" asked Beckett, ignoring Jack.

"The mutant who buried me in solid concrete knew the name of Northman's progeny," said the Magister in his dry raspy voice.

"Maybe she just knew who Pamela Ravenscroft was," said Jack. "She does pose nude in a calendar. Honestly, Beckett, is that the best you can come up with? Then again, you _did_ graduate with a C." Wait, was this sort of personal attack allowed in a vampire court? Why wasn't anyone throwing Jack out for contempt?

"At least I graduated from _Harvard_," snarled Beckett.

"With a C," said Jack, who could not resist rubbing it in and revelling in his perceived superiority. He was so smug that one might have made the mistake of thinking that he'd already won the case.

"And you got your degree on the _internet_!"

* * *

**A/N: **The trial starts off with a bang! There _may_ be something that Jack has forgotten to tell his employers...


	40. Illusions of Justice

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 40: Illusions of Justice **

"And you got your degree on the _internet_!"

There was complete and utter silence after this revelation. And then, all hell broke loose. Logan, unhelpfully, started laughing. So did Quetzalcoatl. The Ancient Pythoness gave Jack an appreciative toothless grin and Queen Helen looked as if she was trying to keep a straight face. Theodora, on the other hand, seemed to be asking God for strength, and Eric looked ready to rip his lawyer apart.

"This session of court has been adjourned," said Theodora. "The court will reconvene in forty five minutes after we have absorbed this not-so-surprising news."

That was all that it took for Eric to drag Jack off the podium. Pam hurried after her maker to make sure that he didn't kill the lawyer. Marie was right on her heels, although she did keep a respectful distance away from Pam's Louboutin stilettos. Pam's stilettos were deadly. Queen Sybille followed, most likely to make sure that her recommended lawyer didn't get killed. Technically, it was her fault for recommending Jack Sparrow in the first place, except...wait. She looked way too calm.

Eric had locked himself and Jack in his room, forgetting that there was another door that opened up into Pam's room. Pam unlocked that adjoining door. "Eric, don't kill him," she drawled lazily. "You don't want to have to pay restitution to Her Majesty."

"No, I don't, but I won't care if she doesn't give me an explanation, and soon," growled Eric.

"Honestly, Viking, I think you're overreacting," said Sybille.

"I'll say," grumbled Jack. "And he ruined me best shirt."

"He got his degree on the internet!"

"Accordin' to Cutler Beckett, the enemy lawyer," said Jack. "Do you really believe everythin' you hear, Sheriff? Although, granted, Beckett was tellin' the truth this time, but I don't see how it matters."

"Jack's right," said Sybille. "It doesn't."

"Wait," said Eric. "You _knew_ that he got his degree on the internet?"

"Of course," said the Queen of New York. "It doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to the fact that Jack Sparrow is one of the best lawyers in the world."

"He has no proper qualification."

"That sheet of paper means abso-_fucking_-lutely nothing." Whoa. Queen Sybille swearing? That had to be a first. Usually, she was so classy. "How many lawyers can you honestly say have studied the law for the sole purpose of getting away with breaking it?"

Eric gaped at her. He seemed to lose his power of speech quite often around Sybille. Maybe it was because she was a queen and he couldn't be too rude to her. Maybe it was because they had a history together. That had been hinted at a lot, although Marie didn't know the specifics. Suffice to say that she sometimes felt insecure when she thought about Eric's past relationships, if Sybille was any indication of the type of women he used to...uh...spend time with. Then again, Eric's tastes did vary.

* * *

Court resumed, with Jack at the centre of attention. Sookie wondered if anyone was actually concentrating on the case anymore. The 'internet lawyer' was definitely the flavour of the night. Having established that there was no solid evidence tying Eric to the counter raid on Fangtasia, the case was dismissed, much to the ire of Beckett and the Authority.

Marie had never seen a trial quite like the one that she'd just witnessed. It was nothing like the trials she saw on TV. Even _Judge_ _Judy_ hadn't been quite so dramatic or colourful. There had never been a panel of judges like the one at Eric's trial, and she'd never seen lawyers like Jack Sparrow and Cutler Beckett either. They'd been so unprofessional. If he could have, Beckett would really have drained Jack right there and then. Marie was also certain that Jack had been prepared for such an eventuality, maybe with a secret stake or the pencil in his pocket. Personally, she was very glad that he was on their side, and not anyone else's. He was...well, incredible, to say the least. Whenever he'd opened his mouth, it had seemed that it would have ended in disaster, but he'd somehow always managed to make things right. That was nothing short of a miracle.

Winning the trial was definitely a cause for celebration in the Louisiana camp. Well, the Shreveport-and-mutant camp, at least. Some of the sheriffs were outwardly happy, but the telepath could sense that they were secretly disappointed that Eric didn't get staked or imprisoned. She didn't even need to be a telepath to know that. It had been no secret that a lot of the Louisiana sheriffs had been hoping for Eric's demise so that they could rise up and take advantage of the huge power vacuum he would most certainly leave behind.

Still, there were two more trials to go through in which Eric had to defend himself against the charges levied against him, and then there was the case where he was accusing the Queen of almost creating an interspecies diplomatic disaster when she'd tried to claim Sookie, and she would have if he hadn't stopped her. It was all very confusing, but this was part of her life now, and she had to understand it.

"There ain't no cause for worry," said Jack.

"Except for your grammar, or the complete lack thereof," Pam pointed out drily.

"Trifles," said the lawyer with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We've got this in the bag. It's a little known secret, so don't let this get out —there ain't no bugs in this room, trust me. Sheriff Northman's character is well known to at least two of the judges. He's slept wiv them both, savvy?"

There was silence. Everyone stared at the Viking, who glowered at Jack. Finally, it was Sybille who broke the silence. "_Thank _you, Jack," she said sarcastically.

"Yer welcome...your nibs," said Jack with an extravagant bow, although he must have known that she wasn't pleased. Was he not even scared of one of the most powerful vampire monarchs in America? Even if he didn't care about her political position, she could still rip him apart with her bare hands. Then again, perhaps he knew his own worth, and it was huge.

"Which two?" asked Logan.

"The French clergyman and the Ancient Pythoness," said Sybille, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "Of _course_ it was Queen Helen and Theodora."

"Yes, well, anyway, they _know_ that the good Sheriff is not as guilty as the Authority wants them to believe, so the outcome will be absolutely fine," Jack ploughed on, oblivious to the awkwardness in the room. "Anyway, we done? I need to head to the bar for a drink before it closes, savvy?" With that, he sauntered out, leaving all his notes on the table. Upon closer inspection, they were mostly just doodles of pirate insignias and a few obscene sketches the size of a thumbnail. Right.

* * *

Helen, Theodora, Sybille...and these were just _three_ of the women that Eric had...well, had intimate relations with. Between them, they had personality, beauty, wit, and charm, and really, who wouldn't feel intimidated when comparing herself with the woman who launched a thousand ships? Really, why did Eric choose _her_ out of all people? She was not particularly pretty. Most of the time, she just felt plain, standing next to women like Pam and Claudine and even Sookie, who was a tanner, blonder, and more attractive version of her, appearance-wise, at the very least. After all these gorgeous women, why her? Was it just because she was a succubus? Was it because she was different and exotic and he just wanted something new for a change?

"What is bothering you, little lover?" asked Eric. "You've been very quiet tonight."

"Well...I..."

"You are not still worried about the trials, are you?"

"A little...but...I...I don't know how to say this."

"Lover, I can feel what you feel. There is nothing that you cannot tell me."

"I...we...what are we, Eric? What am I to you?"

"You are my woman and my lover. You know that." It was his turn to be confused. Being subtle was no good, even if she had been about as subtle as...say, Logan, when he tried his best.

"I know, but...why me? What do you see in me? You have had women like Sybille, and Theodora and...and...Queen Helen, who is beautiful and wise and absolutely _perfect_. Why did you choose me? I mean, those women are beautiful and smart and charming and witty and—"

"Do you think you are none of those things?"

"Eric, I am not delusional. I'm just plain little ole me."

"If only you could see yourself through my eyes, my lover." He gazed directly into her eyes. His eyes were so blue that she imagined that she was falling into the ocean. He took her hands and then leaned forwards. She closed her eyes. His feelings confused and overwhelmed her. He didn't know what he was feeling either, but he wasn't fighting his feelings, for a change. Perhaps...maybe...

He kissed her on her mouth. His lips were cool and soft against hers. She parted her lips and leaned in closer. It was a slow searing kiss, despite the fact that he had no body heat and would forever remain at room temperature. Still, he managed to make liquid fire shoot down from her mouth to the very bottom of her feet just by kissing her. Every nerve tingled. "You are all of those things," he whispered as he broke off the kiss. "You have no reason to doubt me, especially since you can feel what I feel."

"It doesn't mean I understand you any better," she said. "You confuse me, Eric."

"And you confuse me, Little Succubus," he said, "but I believe that is a good thing." He lay back and pulled her down with him, so that she was on top of him, with her knees on either side, straddling his abdomen. His jeans had grown very tight and there was a familiar glint in his eye. Still holding onto her with one hand, he reached out with the other to grab the phone. "I believe you are hungry, Lover," he purred. "Shall we order some chocolate sauce?"

"Oh, you are one bad vampire," she said.

"On the contrary, I believe I am very good at being a vampire." He dialled the number for room service, ordered a couple of bottles of chocolate sauce. "Warm, but not hot," he said. His other hand did not pause in its exploration of her body. It slipped up her shirt and before she realized, he'd undone her bra —he was an expert at undoing bras, she suspected— and was stroking her breast so gently that he was raising goose pimples on her skin. She was not going to let him have fun on his own. Leaning down, she licked the sensitive spot behind his ear, all the while moving her hips against him in a torturously slow manner. He growled and dropped the receiver, not even managing to put it back into its cradle. She nipped his neck playfully, not hard enough to draw blood and was delighted when he arched his body against hers.

"How bad am I?" she whispered into his ear.

"Miss D'Ancanto, I believe you are not the good girl that you have led us all to think you are," he whispered back. He flipped the two of them over, so that she was on the bottom now. He supported himself on his and knees. Their eyes were lined up perfectly. His fangs were out. They glinted in the dim light of the room. His hands were pinning her wrists down, and he straddled her hips. She was in a vulnerable position, but there was no fear. In fact, this excited her very much indeed. A few months ago, she'd have been in a state of near panic to have this beautiful and deadly creature looming over her like that, looking as if he wanted to taste her blood, which he did.

"As I said, you have corrupted me, Mr. Northman."

"Hmm, I do believe I can corrupt you further, if you will allow me, madam?"

A knock on the door interrupted them. Their chocolate sauce had arrived. Eric retrieved the bottles and kicked the door closed before turning back to her. He held the tray in one hand, the bottles balanced expertly as if he were a waiter about to serve her. She propped herself up on her elbows and gave him her best smouldering look. He all but glided over to her and set down the tray on the low bedside table as if he were serving her dinner —Hmm, there was a thought. She grabbed him and pulled him down for another kiss, before pushing him down onto the bed on his back.

Slowly and deliberately, she undid his buttons one by one, as if she were unwrapping a present. He wanted to speed things up by helping her, but she batted his hands away. "Patience, Mr. Northman," she crooned. "You are _mine_." He was all hers, and if anyone tried to take him from her, God help them, because no one else could.

"Prove it," he growled.

"Soon," she said. His frustration with her slowness was evident. She ignored it and took her time, admiring the contours of his muscles and the smoothness of his pale skin. His shirt lay open. A tawny trail of hair led down from his navel and into his jeans. She slowly kissed her way down that trail. His entire body was taut. She could feel his lust and his desire. It mingled with hers, and she was surprised that both of them could control themselves so well. She'd learned a lot since she'd been...well, Eric's lover, for lack of a better term. Grabbing one of the bottles of warmed chocolate sauce, she straddled him before allowing a stream of chocolate to dribble onto those perfect pectorals.

That was when their control broke. As soon as she began to lick up the chocolate, he suddenly pulled her up and kissed her. The combined lustful desire set a fire in their bones. The heat curled around her limbs. The chocolate on his chest smeared across her shirt. She didn't care. His hands were all over her body, stroking, teasing, kneading. She could feel his delight as he 'tasted' chocolate for the first time in his long life. That, combined with her lust for him and his lustful hunger, both for her body and for her blood, made a potent mixture.

Chocolate ended up everywhere; on the sheets, all over their bodies, in their hair and even on the ceiling. Things became incredibly sticky, and Marie felt a fleeting stab of pity for whoever was going to have to clean up after them. That thought faded away soon enough, to be replaced by fiery passion. Without stopping, Eric simply lifted her into his arms as if she weighed the same as a chocolate éclair. Somehow, they managed to make it to the bathroom, their mouths still locked together as if they were trying to become one, and Eric started the water without even looking. It wasn't until she was running out of air that they broke off the kiss.

Still partially clothed, Eric set her in the bathtub and climbed in after her. Water sloshed over the edges of the Jacuzzi. It was a good thing that it was a big tub, for Eric was a large man in every respect. Of course, Marie had known that for a long time now. His open shirt, now wet and translucent, billowed in the water. "We seem to be overdressed, my lover," he said as he waggled his eyebrows. "We should fix that."

* * *

The vials of vampire blood, still in their cooler, were brought out by two gloved and masked vampires. Jack was on the offensive this time, despite the fact that he was meant to be defending Eric, not prosecuting Cutler Beckett, which was what it sounded like. Then again, this was Jack. He was never ever going to be conventional. He questioned the members of the Authority's secret service or whatever the hell they were called about the way they handled the evidence. Did they put it in a sterile container? Did they wear gloves? Did they wear Hazmat suits? Marie thought he'd been doing far too much of his studying with CSI shows. And Hazmat suits? V wasn't radioactive, the last time she'd heard, or else she'd be in a heck of a lot of trouble.

They had exchanged blood again the night before, she and Eric. Just a little, but it was enough for her to begin to feel an inkling of what he was feeling. He'd explained to her that the bond they had would fade within time, but if they strengthened it further, they could create a tie that could not be broken. It sounded a lot like marriage to Marie. They might just have worked out a kink in their relationship, but neither of them was ready for _that_ level of commitment quite yet. They wanted to let pieces fall where they might, instead of forcing things and rushing through them. It was a huge deal, being perfectly aware of one another's feelings all the time.

Sure, Eric knew exactly what she felt all the time, but he felt more secure in knowing that she couldn't feel what he felt as clearly. She wasn't sure she could manage all his feelings either, as she knew he had a darker side to him. This faint temporary bond was like what human couples did when they started staying the night at one another's apartments and put a few items of clothing in their partner's closet. It was a trial, to see whether they were really suited to being _together_ together.

Eric must have caught her thinking about CSI, because he glanced back and grinned. Jack continued with his monologue on how it could not have possibly been Eric hiding that V in _Fangtasia —_Eric wouldn't be so stupid to hide incriminating evidence on his own property, for one, and two, the blood was all Sophie-Ann's, as proven by a blood test done by Sybille's personal crime lab, which specialized in dealing with supernatural evidence. There was a whole lot of semi-scientific and magical mumbo jumbo that Marie didn't understand, concerning blood signatures. The chemical composition part she got, however. Well, the theory of it, at least. The chemical composition of Sophie-Ann's blood and the V found in Fangtasia was a match.

"Since the blood found in Sheriff Northman's establishment is unmistakeably Sophie-Ann LeClerq's," said Jack, "then it stands to reason that she is the one behind the sale of V. She planted the evidence."

"Objection!" said Beckett. "That is pure conjecture. Where is the evidence?"

"Apart from the fact that the blood is hers and couldn't possibly have been obtained without her consent?" asked Jack.

"It is quite possible that Eric Northman could have been selling the blood on her behalf."

"Ah, so you_ do_ admit that it has to be Sophie-Ann LeClerq behind the sale of V!" From her seat, Sophie-Ann glared at both lawyers. Beckett just looked peeved that he'd been manipulated yet again. Jack ploughed on. "There is no evidence that Sheriff Northman ever sold V."

"Actually, there is," said Beckett. Even if he couldn't save Sophie-Ann, he was going to bring down Eric Northman one way or another. "A close examination of Sophie-Ann LeClerq's bank accounts shows large amounts of cash being deposited into them from an account that can be linked to Eric Northman."

"Even so," said Jack. "Sheriff Northman was merely a pawn in his queen's games. What could have done? Said no? Committed treason by disobeyin' her and tellin' someone? Like the Authority?"

"He could have chosen to do the right thing, regardless of the consequences," said Giovanni d'Ambrosio.

"That would have been commendable, but what sane person would do it?" said Jack. "We're all just a bunch of ostracized people tryin' to survive. It's each for his own 'round here, am I right?"

All around, vampires started nodding. They understood what Jack was saying and they identified with it. Survival was the main point of all these power struggles and illegal activities.

"Virtue is a construct of the insane," Sybille murmured, making Logan raise an eyebrow at her. "I am only quoting one of the most successful vampires out there," the queen added. For some reason, she respected the Wolverine. Granted, considering he was more than capable of cutting her head off, perhaps she had a pretty good reason for treating him well.

"No wonder they call you agents of hell," Logan muttered back. "Nice people are supposed to have some idea of virtue."

"Vampires are not 'nice'," Sybille informed him. Unlike human courts, this court permitted a lot of talking amongst the audience. Some of the monarchs who were not even remotely interested in the case simply didn't pay any attention to it. The court only needed them to be present. It didn't require that their minds be present as well.

Jack managed to get rid of most of the charges, but it could not be denied that Eric was an accessory to the crime of drug trafficking, although, since the blood he'd trafficked had come from a consenting individual, it wasn't as serious as it would have been if he'd been trafficking blood of individuals who had not wanted to give it. Little details made a lot of difference in the court. The only reason selling vampire blood was illegal was because the High Council was seeking to stop drainers, vampire and human alike. Yes, apparently there were vampires that were so depraved that they would drain their own kind and sell their blood.

"It ended better than I'd thought it would," said Eric when court was dismissed.

"What's the penalty for bein' an accessory?" said Logan, voicing the question that everyone wanted to ask.

"It depends on the judges," said Sybille. "But I think we have an advantage in that respect."

"When is the verdict going to come out?" asked Marie.

"When all the trials are over," replied Eric. "Punishments can be rather messy, and they would rather not have to clean up more than once. It's practical."

* * *

The last charge levelled against Northman by the American Vampire Authority, in Logan's opinion, was the most ridiculous out of the three. Overstepping the boundaries of his jurisdiction by forming an alliance with mutants? Theoretically, he was only one of the people who had _helped _them to form an official vampire-mutant alliance with the Queen of New York. Originally, the plan had been to form an alliance with the Authority, and not just a monarch, but the Authority had shattered the mutants' belief that there could be an alliance with them after they'd arrested Northman's progeny and tortured her with no evidence to base their actions on. Logan made the call on this, and he didn't want an alliance with someone who thought they ruled the world. Sybille, at least, knew the limits of her powers and she understood what it meant to respect others. At least, he thought she did. That, and she _was_ hot.

"As a sheriff, Mr. Northman did not possess the authority required to make political deals with other species," Beckett was saying. Logan would really love to behead that lawyer. Unfortunately, that would interfere with the current legal proceedings in a rather messy manner.

"If I may," said Jack, "Sheriff Northman never signed no treaty."

"Perhaps a hard copy of such a treaty does not exist, but the fact that these mutants attacked the forces of the Authority in order to rescue his progeny points to the fact that such an illicit alliance is very real."

"I wasn't aware that interspecies friendship was illegal," said Jack.

"Do you deny that there is a formal Vampire-Mutant Alliance and that Mr. Northman is part of it?" asked Beckett.

"There was never a formal alliance until Queen Sybille of New York signed a treaty with the mutants, something which she is authorized to do, as queen, and it is no secret. Sheriff Northman is part of that treaty because he has entered into an alliance with Queen Sybille, something which _he_ is authorized to do. Therefore, strictly speaking, there is no _formal_ legal alliance existing between Sheriff Northman and the mutant community. And with no formal alliance between said parties, there is no case!"

"Has Mr. Northman not been liaising with a member of the mutant community, a certain Ms. Marie D'Ancanto?" asked Beckett. He had a smug smirk on his face that Logan itched to wipe off. Jack, however, wore an equally smug grin. That lawyer-pirate had something up his sleeve.

"Mate, it's called _sex_, savvy?"

* * *

Since there was no formal treaty, Jack managed to get the case thrown out. The Authority was now hugely embarrassed by everything. To add insult to injury, Eric was suing them for the illegal detainment and torture of a vampire with no evidence to back up their actions, as well as wrongful accusation. Pam was pleased about that development. With Jack, who was close to becoming a permanent part of their team despite not being either a mutant or a vampire —he was in a category all of his own— they were more than likely to win. That was, of course, if Jack didn't get killed by Beckett first.

"We'll win," said Jack. "There ain't no doubt about it. For once, we're actually in the right, and I'm prosecutin'." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm ready for a bloody good time."

"So am I," said Pam. She ran her tongue over her teeth slowly, dispelling any lingering notion that being female had any effect on a person's love of violence, in case anyone still had doubts as to what she was made of —seven parts style and three parts bloodthirstiness. "Doesn't Quetzalcoatl like blood sacrifices?"

"That he does, luv," said Jack. "But let's not do it on the carpet. 'twould be rather hard to get the stains out, eh?"

* * *

Insider information told him that there was a vampire summit in Rhodes, Illinois. All the important vampires were gathered in one hotel, the Pyramid of Gizeh. It would be the perfect opportunity to rid these demons of their leadership. However, it wasn't so simple. America wasn't the only place with vampires. Who was to say that they wouldn't just ship in replacements from other places in the world? And was it really so hard for these minions of Satan to find new leaders amongst themselves? Who knew how many other vampires were out there. The Fellowship, on its own, could not rid the world of vampires and all those other ungodly and unnatural evils that plagued this earth. He'd heard of men who could take the forms of animals, of witches who could manipulate unscientific energies. As a servant of God, he could not let this go on. God alone was supposed to be able to control all things. God alone, and those upon whom He had bestowed his power, could perform inhuman miracles. God alone could raise people from the dead.

If such powerful creatures existed, then where did that leave the race of Man? It said in the Bible that _men_ were supposed to be the stewards of creation. _Men_ were the only ones who could manipulate creation as they pleased. All of creation was supposed to be under the rule of men. The existence of vampires and mutants and all these other supernatural creatures violated that divine decree. It was not to be tolerated.

But then, these misguided liberal fools believed that vampires deserved the same rights as human beings, the chosen and beloved ones of God. They also insisted on religious tolerance, which was almost as ridiculous. However, Steve Newlin's main concern was the spread of the Occult throughout this land that was supposed to be a land of hard working honest Christians. It had fallen to him to put that to rights, but he couldn't do it if the majority of people in America didn't support him. All his attacks on vampires and their establishments had done no good. The vampires had retaliated through the media, calling him a terrorist. There were those who believed in the Light of God and saw the truth, of course, but they were a select few. The rest of them either believed in this ridiculous notion of 'vampire rights' or were apathetic. He needed to change that.

"Reverend," said Gabe Lowell, formerly the leader of the branch of the Fellowship of the Sun in Texas. He'd been the one who'd first seen the destructive power of mutants and vampires working together, and he wanted more than anything than to get back at those who had completely destroyed his base. At first, he'd thought that his attack on Stan Davis' vampire nest had succeeded, but then realized the error of his notion when he saw that little fangbanging whore who'd taken part in the storming of the base in the newspaper, denouncing the attack on a vampire bar in Shreveport. The owner of that bar had been none other than the vampire that they'd been about to crucify. "Are we going to attack the hotel?"

"No," said Steve. "Ultimately, that will not help our cause."

"So we are going to do nothing?" demanded Lowell. He was all brawn and no brains. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let him head such an important branch of the Fellowship as the one in Texas.

"Of course not," said the senator. "But if we want to do God's work, Gabe, we must have the American people on our side. Edgington's actions on live television might have angered them, but the vampires keep on claiming that he is only one individual, and therefore not representative of all of those demons. They are buying it. However, if we can prove to them that there are other vampires like Edgington, then it will be different."

"I don't think it's that easy to get another vampire to rip a newsman's spine out on live television," said Lowell with a frown.

"Of course it is not," said Steve. "But who knows what a provoked vampire will do?" He turned to the broad bald man. "Gabe, can I ask you a serious question?"

"Sure," said Lowell, not really understanding.

"Would you be willing to die for Christ and His Truth?"

* * *

**A/N: **I wish everyone a happy holiday season, no matter what you celebrate. And, what is the Fellowship of the Bigoted planning, with all those vampires in one place?


	41. Long Live the King!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 42: Long Live the King! **

The rest of the trials went smoothly. Jack won case after case and managed to sound half-sober even though he wasn't. Queen Sophie-Ann ended up needing to drop 'Queen' from her name. She was charged with the illegal sale of V, thus endangering the vampire position in the human world. She was also charged with endangering the vampire-faerie truce through her relentless attempts to acquire Sookie. Bill almost got roped in because he was the one who'd blabbed about Sookie's fae heritage to Russell Edgington under torture, but Jack, in a moment of pure brilliance —although most people felt quite sorry for Bill at that point— announced that it was 'not illegal to be pathetic'.

The Magister didn't escape either. He was charged with abusing his powers and forcefully incarcerating and torturing a vampire with no evidence, and thus stripped of his powers. Pam wasn't quite satisfied enough with that result, because she wanted bloodshed, but the High Council had decided not to spill blood during these dire times when every vampire was needed. It made sense, but just because wholemeal bread was better for you didn't mean it tasted better than white bread. At least, that was how Sookie saw it.

Eric, for abetting, albeit against his will, in the sale of vampire blood and for rebelling against his queen, was being made to become king. Yes. Eric Northman was going to be King of Louisiana, as per the wishes of the High Council. Their argument was that he never wanted to be king, even though he was the best candidate for the job and had been for a long time. Therefore, it was a suitable punishment for him to be crowned. Sometimes, the logic of vampires astounded Sookie, and she'd been dealing with them for a couple of months now. Still, that was nothing compared to the lifespan of some of these people, although she wasn't the only one who felt that the judges were pushing it.

"This is ridiculous!" declared Sophie-Ann. At her side, Andre was seething.

"Are you questioning the authority of the High Council?" asked Giovanni d'Ambrosio coldly. Out of all the judges, he was the one who most disapproved of the sale of vampire blood. Like the Magister, he saw it as being sacrilege. Unlike the Magister, however, he didn't think that it was a crime punishable by death.

"With all due respect, milord, Eric Northman was found guilty of treason against his queen and the sale of vampire blood, and he is rewarded with a kingdom?"

"He was found guilty of rebelling against his incompetent queen, Ms. LeClerq," said Theodora. "By that reasoning, we have agreed that it was a justified coup d'état. And, as the Council has stated, now is the time when we need to utilize people, not end them. No one can deny the North Man's skill as a leader and diplomat. If not for him, we would not have an alliance with mutants, and we would also most likely be fighting a war with the Fae, no thanks to you." Did Theodora have anything to do with this strange verdict? It was obvious that she was on Eric's side, despite her effort to remain neutral. Sookie didn't need to be able to read her mind to interpret that.

Sophie-Ann opened her mouth, but she could not go against the judgement of the High Council. No one in the world was stupid enough to do that. The five of them could rip her apart in a heartbeat if they decided that it was what they wanted. Queen Helen was over three thousand years old, and if legend was anything to go by, she'd also been touched by Zeus. The existence of the Greek Pantheon didn't seem so unlikely, what with faeries and vampires and succubae and angels all turning out to be real. Therefore, if Helen really was the daughter-of-sorts of Zeus, then that would make her very powerful indeed.

Sookie couldn't take her eyes off Eric. Him? King? Well, she could certainly envision it. He already had a throne, albeit a tacky one, but still. Weren't all thrones tacky in some way? It wasn't as if royalty were into the minimalist designs of the modern era. They liked ostentatious things to show off their power. Wait...if Eric was king, then her cousin would be...

Actually, that would be too confusing. Was Marie even Eric's girlfriend? He called her 'lover' all the time, but that could just mean bed partner. Then again, to everyone's best knowledge, Marie was Eric's only bed partner right now. He'd rejected all those other women who'd thrown themselves at him. He'd rejected Sybille, according to Sybille, who liked to tease him about it. Theodora said that he'd never acted this way before in all the years she'd known him; usually, she was the one being the moping romantic and he was constantly snapping her out of it. (Really, those vamps gossiped as much as Mrs. Fortenberry. Perhaps she ought to introduce them.) Therefore, judging by Eric's alleged past behaviour and the way he was currently behaving, would Marie end up as the royal consort, or even the _queen_?

* * *

"I do not like the verdict," said Giovanni d'Ambrosio. Well, at least he'd had the decency to wait until the court had been dismissed and the five judges were left to speak in private. "It goes against every law! He might not have wanted to be king, but a crown certainly would not hurt him. It does not set up a good example for the other vampires."

"The word of the High Council is the law, Monseigneur d'Ambrosio," said Helen. "Besides, judgement has already been passed. We can hardly change the verdict now. And you must understand that these are extraordinary times. The world has need of men like Eric of the North. It would be counterproductive to kill him."

"It simply does not sit well with me, as an enforcer of the law, milady," said the former churchman. "Would such a verdict not encourage others to do as he has done? The sale of vampire blood is sacrilege—"

"It is only sacrilege because some vampires have been forcefully draining other vampires for profit," Theodora cut in. "I don't see a problem with it if it's consensual, provided that it's not being used as a source of funding for terrorist organizations such as the Fellowship of the Sun."

"I believe that _that_ is a more serious problem that needs to be discussed right now," said the Ancient Pythoness. "The world is changing, and we need to change with it to survive. We cannot go on as we always have done. Humans are now more than capable of challenging us with their new technologies and weapons of mass destruction, and they are not willing to share what they perceive was being their world."

"The humans overestimate themselves," snorted Quetzalcoatl. "Do they really think that they don't have to share their world with supernatural beings? We have been living alongside them for millennia. There have been supernaturals long before the present breed of human even evolved. They are sorely mistaken if they think they can purge the world of all things supernatural. I do not believe that any race will take that very well. They will only force all supes to unite, and then they will know just how badly they underestimated us."

"Well, so far, they only know about vampires so that is the race they are coming after," d'Ambrosio pointed out. "Do not forget, Feathered Serpent, that humans eradicated your followers."

"Only the human ones. I assure you that the were-jaguars of the Amazon are still very faithful to me, and they will appear at an instant if I called them."

"It will only be a matter of time before they find out about the weres and shifters, and then there are witches, and the Fae, and the djinn, and the Succubae, and the Incubae, and everything else out there," said the Ancient Pythoness. Behind the milky white layer that made her blind, her eyes were moving rapidly as if she was quickly scanning all the possible futures. "The fundamentalists will try and wage war on them all, and it will not be pretty. The world as we know it, my lords and ladies, is about to end."

* * *

He'd never wanted to be king. That was Balian's thing, not his. He'd been happy enough being a Sheriff, for that amount of power gave him the autonomy he craved. With great power came great responsibility—that was a lesson he'd learned even before he'd been turned. As the eldest son of a king, he'd been expected to succeed his father. If Edgington's wolves hadn't put an end to his kingdom and forced him to begin a search for vengeance, he might just have done that.

"You should wear the blue, Eric," said Pam, jerking him out of his thoughts. She selected a deep blue tuxedo from the pile of suits that covered the king-sized bed. She seemed to be more excited than he was about his coronation. King Eric. That sounded so strange. At best, he'd been a minor prince in the past, and now he was a monarch in his own right, endorsed by the High Council itself! He'd never thought he'd be important enough to warrant thee attention of the High Council. "It brings out your eyes, and it is the colour of royalty."

"Whatever you say, Pam," said Eric absent-mindedly, not really giving a damn. He hadn't even been crowned yet, and already, royal troubles were plaguing him. He'd received three marriage proposals from other vampire monarchs. Amongst vampires, marrying someone was a way of establishing an alliance with them, and everyone wanted a piece of him now that they could see that he had the favour of the High Council. It was a royal pain in the arse, if anyone asked him for his opinion on all of this. Sure, he'd pretty much been doing the work of a king when he'd been Regent, but at least he had still been able to use Sophie-Ann as a shield.

"Eric, I know you're not interested in being king, but you should be just a little more enthusiastic about all of this," said Pam. "It's a pretty good 'punishment' as far as punishments go, and think of all the good you could do for the vampire world."

"I really don't see what I can do, Pam," said the Viking as he tugged off his t-shirt and allowed her to put a crisp white shirt on him. "The Queen of Alabama, the Queen of Kansas and the King of Oklahoma have all sent messengers with marriage proposals."

"I can't help you with that," said Pam as she buttoned up his shirt. "They all seem just as undesirable to me, although Oklahoma is more powerful than the other two—you are simply wondering who you will marry, aren't you? God, Eric, do you not think you are taking your obsession with your little succubus too far? You're as bad as Bill Compton with Sookie, except you never tried to manipulate Miss D'Ancanto, at least not to my knowledge, which makes you slightly better, but just slightly."

Eric had nothing to say to that. He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't stand the thought of Marie being upset, least of all by him. For some strange reason that eluded him, he wanted to protect her and keep her all for himself. Well, that last part could be attributed to the usually possessive nature of vampires. Vampires were all for taking and not giving anything back. The strangest thing was that now that he had her, he found that he still wanted her. Usually, once he had something, or someone, he ceased to desire whatever it was he had worked to attain. Theodora had teased him about having genuinely deep feelings for Marie. He'd brushed her off. Was it possible that his 'niece', who was no expert on love by any means —and had often come to him to seek consolation for a broken heart after yet another disastrous relationship with a were or a shifter or a genie (last time)— was actually right?

"I cannot betray her like that," he said at last.

"You are a new king, Eric. You need allies. She's a smart girl, as far as breathers go. I think she'll understand."

"I simply do not see why alliances must be tied to marriage," said Eric. "Has Sibylla not survived for so long without marrying anyone?"

"With all due respect, Master, Queen Sybille is married to Wall Street, and she has international backing, as you well know."

"I have whatever backing she does. Balian may be her stepfather, but he is also my brother."

"Also, Sybille's maker is Queen Dido of Carthage, who pretty much rules all of North Africa. I shall not speak of my grandsire because I know you are perfectly aware of what he was. Besides, you don't have her financial base."

"I have Sibylla as an ally. And note, even though she is my ally, we are not married. As for money, I am not so badly off, and I have a solid alliance with the mutants who are, in some ways, superior to the monarch of any other kingdom. That gives me an advantage that many don't have."

"Admit it, Eric," said Pam as she finished putting in the old-fashioned cufflinks. "The reason you are so reluctant to marry is because you have feelings. Why won't you just admit it? Dear Abby says that it is healthy to be honest about how you feel, especially where relationships are concerned. What? You don't need to look at me like that. You know I'm right. I always—all right, mostly— am."

* * *

When it had been announced that Eric would become king, she'd expected that things would change, only she hadn't known how much they would change. Now she had an inkling of it, when she'd overheard two vampires conversing about which monarch the new king would choose to marry and to ally himself with. Apparently, he'd already received a few proposals. Just how many, Marie didn't know. It wouldn't have been hard for her to find out if she really wanted to, but she wanted to hear it from Eric himself. If he truly respected her and cared about her, he would tell her. If not, then he really wasn't worth moping about. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

There was a knock on her door as she finished applying her make-up. No matter what happened, she was still with Eric, until one of them ended whatever they had between them. Although she wasn't sure as to the status of their relationship, she didn't want whatever it was to end. "Come in," she said. "It's unlocked." It never occurred to her that it could be someone who meant her harm. Luckily for her, she was right. This time.

"My my," said Pam. "I think I really do believe that you are a succubus this time. You look delectable, little mutant girl."

"You think so?" said Marie, standing up and turning around once so that Pam could see the entirety of her outfit. She hadn't known what to wear for a coronation, so she'd picked out something formal and subtly sexy. With green being her favourite colour, and the colour that Eric loved to see her wear, it seemed to be the obvious choice. The dress was a strapless floor length gown, perfectly tailored to accent her curves and hide unsightly bulges —no matter what Eric said, she was not going to let the world see those. She'd pinned her hair back into a low chignon. Around her neck was a necklace of jade discs set in gold —Theodora had insisted that she wear it because every coronation needed 'bling'.

"Eric would love it," said Pam in approval.

Marie forced herself to smile and not seem nervous. It was not easy. Pam knew her too well, and being a vampire, she could probably smell nervousness. It had something to do with hormones and adrenaline secretions.

"Anyway," the vampire continued. She smiled 'sweetly', or in what she probably thought was a sweet manner but that probably scared the shit out of most people. "I didn't come to chit chat. Eric wants to see you in his room. He needs to talk to you. Can you please convince him that bow ties do not make him look like a poodle at a show?"

* * *

"We need to talk." That was the first thing he said to her when she came into his room. Well, suite. Would it be a royal suite now that he was king?

"I figured out as much when you sent Pam to find me," she said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa in his room. It was a very nice sofa, and altogether too tidy to be natural. Perhaps they could change that after the coronation, when they were finally on their own...

"Stop that," said Eric, even though his lips were twitching. "It's not helping."

"I thought you liked it when I thought naughty things," said Marie.

He turned around to face her. "There is a time and place for everything, and right now, we really do need to talk. I've received three marriage proposals."

"I know," she said. "I was waiting for you to tell me."

"I want to know what you think." He stared at her, never blinking his mesmerizing blue eyes. She wanted to stare at them forever, to drown in them and forget about all their troubles. However, that would not be practical. She had to be realistic here. She was about as good as human in the eyes of vampires, even though they insisted that she was a succubus. Either way, she knew she wasn't all that important in their society, especially not when compared to those all-essential political alliances that new monarchs should, ideally, have.

"If you need me to leave, Eric, I'll leave," she said at last.

"What if I do not want you to leave?"

"I refuse to share you with anyone, not even if it's a vampire queen. Or king."

"You are going to make me choose between you and my kingdom?"

"Or maybe I will simply remove one of the choices." She stood to go. In an instant, he was standing between her and the door.

"You really would leave me, even though nothing would change essentially?" He seemed to be a bit disbelieving. Perhaps he couldn't understand why any woman would leave him voluntarily. Who could blame him, really? Most women would kill for just one night with him.

"I know what I'm worth, Eric. I might not be worth that much, but I'm not worth that little either. I won't be your mistress, playing second fiddle to your spouse. I don't want to make you choose, so I'm making this easier for you."

"That is not something you can do. I am not letting you go."

"You can't stop me from leaving just because I refuse to be your mistress," said Marie incredulously. Really, his ego was getting to be just a little too much. "And to be honest, I'd rather die than cheapen myself so much by assenting to be a 'pet' of any sort, even if I would be taken care of."

"Believe me, if I thought you were capable of cheapening yourself thus, I would never have paid you that much attention," said Eric. "I am going to reject those proposals."

"What?" She couldn't believe he was saying this. "And risk insulting all those monarchs?" He was choosing her over politics. It made her giddy and breathless, and confused. He knew that, for he stepped closer to her until he was looming directly over her. God, he was magnificent.

"They want alliances with me. They can still have that. I simply won't marry any of them."

"You need a valid reason for rejecting their proposals. I'm sure a lot of vampire queens want more than just the alliance."

"_You_ are my reason."

"A _valid_ reason, Eric."

"You are a very valid reason."

"Are you trying to tell me that vampires now consider human girlfriends a valid reason not to marry a fellow vampire?" That didn't fit with the image that she'd formed of the vampire community.

"No, but you are not human, are you, my little succubus?" Eric grinned, revealing his slightly extended fangs. "I think it's time for you to pull the supe card."

"How is that going to change anything? Weres are supes and you treat them like scum on the bottom of your shoes."

"But you are a succubus. That is very different from a were. Succubae are an ancient race well known for their possessiveness and their ability to take life. The other vampires will respect that."

"You forget that I'm not actually a proper succubus."

"Yes, but they don't know that. If you are willing, I would bond with you so that they would have no reason to be insulted by my rejection. At least, no justified reason. It would be something that is recognized by all supe communities."

"Bond with me? Isn't that like..."

"Being engaged? Almost, although it is a far more permanent state. This sort of engagement cannot be broken. You will be officially recognized as being mine, and I, yours."

She felt so dizzy and out of breath that she needed to brace herself against the back of a chair. Her knees were shaking. "Eric, are you...are you...proposing?"

"In a manner, yes," said the vampire.

"But you've only known me for a couple of months!"

"Half a year. Did I ever tell you I proposed to another woman within four weeks of meeting her?"

"And she dumped you for that." His eyes narrowed. Whoops. She was not supposed to say that.

"Theodora told you," he said, sounding very certain. Well, it was the obvious choice. Sybille wasn't the type to kiss and tell, and not that many people knew about the Viking's affair with the Crusader Queen.

"She only told me to convince me that there is no way in the world you still have a romantic attachment to the Queen of New York so I wouldn't have to worry," she said. "You're not angry at her, are you? She just wanted to help, that's all."

"Help? She'd be helping me if she stopped getting into bad relationships. But never mind Theodora for now. Do you accept my proposal?"

"Rationally speaking, I shouldn't want to, but—"

"But you do want it. I can feel it." High handed bastard. He must have felt her irritation at him for guessing what she was thinking and then saying it for her, because he simply grinned. Sometimes, she wondered if he got a kick out of embarrassing her or annoying her or something. He must, or else he wouldn't keep doing it all the time. Instead of speaking to her however, he simply bent down. As his cool lips met hers, she hungrily opened her mouth in her attempt to devour him. Somehow, that point of contact was enough to send fire shooting down her spine and into the soles of her feet.

* * *

It was the grandest thing she'd ever seen. The ballroom of the hotel had been transformed into the replica of some ancient temple. There were many decorations of gold, depicting ancient and alien symbols, probably from Ancient Atlantis. Eric had briefly told her how the first vampires had come from Atlantis. Everyone attending the coronation —mostly vampires, but there were also Jack , Quinn and his workers, as well as a select few mutants who'd been chosen to make the King's entourage more impressive— was dressed in their best clothes. Even Sybille, who mostly patronized smaller designers, had brought out her gold Givenchy gown. She looked absolutely magnificent, like some sort of pagan goddess. However, the sight of Eric overshadowed all of them. He stood about fifteen feet in front of Marie, being at the very fore of the procession now making its way down the aisle in the very middle of the ballroom. Granted, she could only see the back of his head, but the embroidered robe he was wearing only emphasized the broadness of his shoulders. Underneath was the blue tuxedo. No, she hadn't been able to convince him to wear the bow tie that went with it. The black velvet trailed behind him on the ground as he made his way to the front, where Queen Helen and the other judges stood waiting, save for one.

Quetzalcoatl had left right after the trials. If there had been an explanation for his sudden departure, then it had been kept a secret. Perhaps vampire coronations weren't his business. After all, he'd only been here because he'd been mad that a vampire sorcerer had stolen magic from his vortex and wanted restitution for it. There was no word on the settlement, but one could only assume that the Great Feathered Serpent had gotten what he'd come for, or else he probably wouldn't have left. Either way, Marie didn't really care. He wasn't her business. Only one man was her business tonight.

Eric stopped at the very top of the steps that led up to a dais of some sort. That hadn't been there last night. Quinn and his guys must have spent all day setting it up. It was covered with a dark indigo carpet —more navy blue than violet. That was the only colour in the decorations. Everything else was black, down to the wood of the dais. That was, except for the gold accents. Black, gold and indigo; were those sacred colours or something?

Slowly, Queen Helen stepped forward to meet Eric at the edge of the steps. Her dark hair, with its bronze sun-kissed streaks, was loose. Her white long-sleeved gown was sleek and devoid of decoration. Calvin Klein, according to Pam. Queen Helen was into minimalism, apparently, or she just wanted to look impressively solemn for this occasion. Either way, it was a winning look that very few women could pull off. She was, after all, the face that launched a thousand ships. "Who is it that seeks the right of kingship?" she asked.

"It is I, Eric of the North, child of Godric who was the child of Appius Livius Ocella," Eric replied. This was standard procedure. Once upon a time, this part of the ceremony had been used to ensure that the vampire who was being crowned came from a noble bloodline, but such a requirement for monarchs had long since become obsolete.

"Then kneel, Eric of the North," said the queen. Eric knelt as she held her hands over him, like a mother giving her child a blessing. "Do you, Eric of the North, swear to uphold the laws of the ancients, which have been passed down from maker to child, generation through generation, ever since the beginning?"

"I do," Eric replied.

"Do you swear to rule with justice, and not to let your own selfish desires sway your decisions?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to keep the peace between all races, and not raise the hammer of war unless at the uttermost end of need?"

"I do."

Queen Helen turned to Theodora. The ex-vampire stepped forward. She, too, was in white, although her gown was greatly embellished with crystals. She held a black velvet cushion with both hands and on the cushion was a simple golden circlet which seemed almost too plain amongst all the finery. Behind her was Giovanni d'Ambrosio, bearing a beautiful crafted sword with a golden jewelled scabbard, and behind him was someone else bearing the signet ring which Eric would wear for the entirety of his reign. It bore his seal of the sword and the hammer.

"Then, by the power that is vested in me through the High Council's authority, I crown thee—" She didn't get to finish her sentence.

"We object!" came a cry from the audience. At once, all eyes turned in the direction of the voice. Felipe De Castro, king of Nevada, stepped out from the audience, bearing a scroll. Behind him was the King of Arkansas, the Queens of Alabama and Kansas, respectively, as well as a host of other kings and queens that Marie didn't recognize. "We, the rulers of twenty seven states, object to the appointment of Eric Northman as King of Louisiana," said Felipe De Castro. He held out the scroll to Queen Helen. Presently, an attendant took it from him and passed it to her. "This is a petition against the crowning of Eric Northman as the king of Louisiana. We have all signed it. Please consider it carefully."

"You would defy the authority of the High Council?" said Helen.

"The High Council cannot possibly understand the situation on this continent, being so far away," said De Castro, who had been appointed the spokesperson, it seemed. "The decision should be left to those of us who do understand."

"The will of the High Council is supreme," said Helen. "No one may go against it, on pain of final death. That is the law of the ancients. Would you defy that law, Lord De Castro?"

"Will all due respect, milady, this is America," said De Castro smugly. As if on cue, the vampires all around them suddenly produced weapons. They'd been planning this from the very beginning, ever since it had been announced that Eric would become king. However, Queen Helen must have been prepared, because her guards suddenly appeared, armed to the teeth. The mutants leapt into action. Well, some of them did. Logan snarled and popped his claws, almost stabbing Bill accidentally. Sabretooth grinned and flexed his hands, and Storm's eyes began clouding over as lightning gathered around her.

"The High Council is the authority which all vampires must obey," said Helen, as calm as ever.

"As an American king, I cannot help but feel offended that the High Council does as it pleases when it does not know our ways and our laws. The fate of American vampires should lie in the hands of Americans. Do you not agree?"

There was a chorus of 'yes's throughout the room. And then...

"If I may interject with your permission, milords and ladies," said Jack, already interjecting as he pranced onto the dais without any permission at all and half-drunk.

"What the hell, Jack?" Theodora hissed. Jack ignored her.

"Who was actually born on this continent?" he asked.

"Are you looking to be drained, human?" said De Castro.

"Not at all, yer nibs," said Jack with a bow. "I don't know 'bout you, but I rather like bein' alive, with a beatin' thump-thump an' all. In me own chest, not in some other chest, mind. What? No one?"

A few vampires, upon seeing that Jack was not being ripped apart by the three thousand year old queen on the dais, were beginning to realize that he wasn't just any old bloodbag. Some raised their hands. There were about two dozen. Only one queen. Native Americans were underrepresented on all fronts, it seemed.

"So I take it that the rest of you ain't born here, which means you're not really Americans at all, savvy?"

"What has that got to do with anything?" demanded De Castro. "We have made this continent our home. As far as we are concerned, we should have full say in what goes on here, and we say that Eric Northman cannot be king."

"The High Council has decreed that Eric of the North will be king," said Queen Helen. "And so he will."

"Who will make sure it happens?" sneered De Castro.

"You forget that I am three thousand years your senior and the daughter of a god," said Helen. No longer did she seem serene and gentle like the moon. She was still calm, but there was something sinister about her as she walked down the steps to approach Felipe De Castro, who involuntarily took a step back. "I could rip out your spine through your mouth and shove it up your rectum before you could even say 'your majesty'." When queens talked dirty, they used scientific terms, Marie noted. Or, perhaps it only applied to ancient Greek queens, because Sybille most definitely swore when the circumstances called for it.

Both sides were poised for a fight. Why was it that she always seemed to be on the side with lesser numbers but better fighters? After all, who could beat an indestructible mutant with claws? Then there was Sabretooth, who'd been itching to kill someone for a while now. Pam had insisted that he be a part of Eric's entourage because he looked impressive and had a reputation for being a deranged psychopath. It wasn't as if he did anything to discourage it.

"Oh boy," she heard Jack say as the ring of enemy vampires closed in on them. That of all things seemed to be the cue for the skirmish to start. That Jack. He always knew how to make trouble even when he didn't mean to.

* * *

Sookie found herself in a dreadful situation. She was in a dress and heels and there was a fight going on around her. Those crippling stilettos on her feet weren't even made of wood, unlike Pam's. Blood and body parts were flying everywhere. Headless bodies fell to the floor, already disintegrating. Only a select few people outside of the vampire community had been allowed to attend the coronation, so most of the mutants were not here, save for Marie and Logan. Oh, she supposed that she could consider herself a mutant too, being a telepath and all. However, her 'mutation' was hardly going to save her from being mauled by bloodthirsty vampires.

Instead of panicking —she really wanted to, but it simply wouldn't do much good; besides, she was an independent southern woman who prided herself on her ability to look after herself. Plus, Scarlett O'Hara wouldn't panic, and Sookie Stackhouse had a lot more powers than Scarlett O'Hara— she kicked off her heels to avoid tripping over. The long skirt was cumbersome enough without her having to walk on stilts. For a moment, she felt a little bad about the shoes. They'd been beautiful patent leather Louboutins that had made her legs look like they went on forever. She forgot about the shoes as she felt a dry cold hand latch onto her ankle.

"Hello, little faerie," said Andre with the most unnerving grin Sookie had seen to date. The telepath lashed out with her other foot, catching him in the face. Andre jerked his head backward, but she only had a micro-second of reprieve before he was onto her again, clawing at her and trying to get his teeth into her. Glistening strands of saliva hung from the tips of his fangs.

Warmth spread through her body and down to her fingertips. There was heat behind her eyes. Light flashed from her hands, throwing Andre several feet away. It happened so unexpectedly that it took a while for her to realize what she'd done. Her 'mutation' wasn't entirely useless in a fight. In a normal state, she could only read minds and lift little objects, but now, in her heightened state of awareness, she could feel her power. It was begging to be unleashed, and it wouldn't be like last time. This time, she was on her own, and she was in control. Tentatively, she lowered her shields.

It was like being plunged into a pit of writhing snakes. No, not snakes. Worms. Vampire thoughts were, in general, unpleasant. Right now, all of them were thinking about death and killing. She forced herself to reach into the pit that was Andre's mind. The vampire screamed as she took control inside his head, but he couldn't fight her off. This wasn't something he understood. She brought him to his knees with a thought and then threw him at the vampire who was trying to maul her cousin, knocking the other vampire to the ground. That lapse was enough for Pam to stick the heel of her Jimmy Choo into the vampire who had been knocked over. Andre recovered just in time to avoid her other heel. The two of them began to circle one another,

No one could approach her without her knowing. She cast out her thoughts, keeping a track of each individual in the room. Mostly, she caught vampire emotions instead of direct vampire thoughts, but the images that she did catch were enough for her to anticipate the moves of those who would try to harm her. They never even managed to reach her. She found Logan. His mind was strangely devoid of conscious thought; all she felt was a raging sea of primal instinct. Sabretooth was more or less the same, although his emotions were definitely more malicious, and he kept on replaying the scene of Russell Edgington ripping out the newsman's spine over and over again, wondering if he could copy it. Yep. That was definitely a psychopath. Then again, they'd all known that for a while.

Sookie felt each one of the vampires' thoughts disperse as they were ended. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed that Eric and his supporters, despite the odds, were winning the battle. Felipe De Castro was starting to get worried. He'd underestimated the power of the four representatives of the High Council, especially Queen Helen. The telepath caught a glimpse of her. Her sleek white Calvin Klein dress was now completely red with the blood of her enemies. She was terrible and beautiful at the same time; the type of beautiful that made people love and fear her all at once. Through her, the telepath got an inkling of the magnificence and power of the High Council. De Castro had miscalculated terribly when he'd thought that they were a bunch of decrepit old fools, for their power was still very much alive.

After seeing her display of power, no one dared to attack the telepath, lest they met the same fate as Andre. It felt good to be so feared for a change, instead of being the one doing the fearing. It was as if there was an invisible shield around her. However, she wasn't simply going to stand there and observe. She blasted a vampire who'd gotten her hands in Pam's long hair. Said vampire was thrown into the air several feet before falling down in front of Jack. The pirate-lawyer must have been part supe, because he was uncannily quick to react. Before the vampire even hit the ground, Jack had taken off his head. "Twenty four!" the pirate-lawyer announced as the body burst into bloody gloop. That Jack.

"That wasn't yours!" Theodora shouted. "That was Sookie's!"

"Are you two really keeping count?" said Marie. "That's morbid!" She swung a chair at the vampire who was trying to maul her. Unfortunately, the chair was metal. Fortunately, she had a pretty good swing —did she play baseball at school?— and she managed to knock the vampire straight into Bill's salvaged katana. The vampire seemed to have no idea how to wield it in the correct manner, and was using it like a French sabre.

"A bet's a bet," said the ex-vampire as she thrust a makeshift stake between the ribs of a vampire who'd been part of De Castro's entourage. "Besides, didn't you watch The Two Towers?"

* * *

The next time she attended anything vampire related, she was most definitely going to make sure that her gun was loaded with silver bullets. The four rounds she fired at De Castro's second didn't seem to deter him much at all. Silver bullets wouldn't have killed a vampire, but they would definitely have slowed him down. Victor Madden pounced on her and slammed her to the floor. Her gun flew from her grasp. As it hit the floor, it discharged, firing a bullet randomly into the melee.

Madden wasn't big, but he was a vampire, and much stronger than her. The worst part was the skin contact. With Eric, she'd come to expect a certain level of horniness and bloodlust, but generally, he wasn't malicious; he never enjoyed causing pain for the sake of causing pain. Madden was completely different. Not only was he horny —vampires tended to get horny whenever there was real blood being spilled, it seemed— he also genuinely enjoyed seeing others in pain. There was something to be said for the emotions of a psychopath, which Marie was feeling right now, due to the skin contact with the one who seemed hell bent on shredding her to pieces.

Something made Madden jerk suddenly. His entire body became rigid. There was a gaping wet red hole in his chest, where his heart ought to have been. Above him stood the Sabretooth, a toothy grin on his face, blood around his lips, and a vampire heart in his hand. The grin faded a bit as the terrifying giant pondered why Madden was not turning into gloop the way other dead vampires were, and instead, was in suspended animation. That would have gone on for a while if the best intervener had not, well, intervened.

"I'll fix that," said Jack. He brandished a pretty toothpick; the type with cellophane on the blunt end that was used for spearing cocktail sausages or martini olives. The cellophane flashed as the toothpick came down. The heart popped like a bloody water balloon. So did Madden's body. "Twenty nine!" Somehow, despite being smack bang in the middle of a vampire battle, Jack remained pretty clean. Well, as clean as a man with personal hygiene issues could be. Perhaps his body odour and bad breath formed a sort of defence, just like skunks and their scent.

The lawyer pranced off again, as happy as a clam, although not in high water. Perhaps it ought to be said that Jack Sparrow was as happy as a Cookiecutter Shark amidst all these big sharks. They couldn't catch him, but he was scoring here and there, doing minimal damage, but still irritating and distracting. Thus, indirectly, he was pulling his own weight in battle, unlike certain mutant girls whose only ability was to kill humans and fellow mutants with a single touch, but was unable to hurt vampires with her powers.

Marie looked around desperately for a more viable weapon than her now spent gun. Some of the furniture had been smashed during the fight. A broken piece of wooden support was sticking out the remains of what had once been a chair. The sharp end of the wood had pierced the buttery soft leather and stuffing burst out from the wound. Bracing herself against the floor, she pulled the makeshift stake out of the remains of the chair. The momentum threw her backwards as the piece of wood came loose. She fell onto her back. A hand hoisted her to her feet again. "I know you spend a lot of time on your back," said Pam, "but this is neither the right occasion nor place."

"Pam!" Sometimes, she could almost stake that vampire. Instead, she staked another vampire; one who was trying to attack Pam from behind. The female vampire seemed impressed that Marie wasn't completely useless in a vampire battle. The mutant didn't know whether to be pleased or insulted, and she really didn't have the time to decide as yet another vampire attacked her. This was going to be one long night.

* * *

The scent of blood and the din of battle made him excited. It always had. Eric propelled himself into the air, with one hand on his enemy's head, using it as leverage. As he flew over the other vampire, his sword flashed, and the head came off, still in his hand. His feet struck the head of yet another unlucky vampire, shocking her enough for him to take off her head with another swing of his sword. Usually, he had qualms about killing women. For Peter Threadgill's most trusted bodyguard, however, he would make an exception.

Eric spun around and took out the legs of two vampires who were trying to creep up on him. As they toppled over, he swung his sword again and severed their heads simultaneously. The heads, even as they began to disintegrate, rolled a short distance away before coming to rest in a puddle of blood. Before the heads even stopped rolling, the Viking had already moved onto his next victim who was, coincidentally, another ancient Pict who served as one of Sophie-Ann's bodyguards. He was the mirror image of the other one he'd killed that time on Sookie's front yard. "You!" snarled the Pict. "You kill brother!"

"Poor you," sneered Eric. "Are you feeling neglected?" The Pict may be older, but he was dumber than a bag of bricks. Where brute strength could not suffice, intelligence would have to make up for it. The giant rushed at him. Their blades clashed, and Eric felt the vibration pass through his sword, up his arm and to his shoulder. The Viking took a step backwards and then darted forward, seemingly aiming for the giant's right thigh. The Pict took the bait and tried to defend himself; at that moment, Eric flipped into the air. His blade cut through the giant's left elbow. There was a raw of pain as the severed limb fell to the ground. Blood spurted out from the stump. It would heal in time, of course, and the giant's forearm would re-grow, but the Viking wasn't going to give him that much time.

Blinded by rage and pain, the Pict lunged wildly at the Viking. Eric stepped aside and used the giant's own momentum to throw him to the ground. Before the other vampire could pick himself up, the Viking had removed his head from his shoulders.

The 'rebels' however, as he'd termed them in his mind, had made back up plans. Not very good plans, granted, but for a moment, they seemed good enough. They had bows. Just small curved ones, more suited to the nomads of the steppes of Central Asia than to the famed longbow archers of medieval Europe, but still, it wasn't as if they had to shoot very far to hit someone. He ducked. Arrows flew overhead, whistling as they cut through the air. Some became embedded in walls. Others, in not so lucky vampires and Wolverines.

* * *

How did he always end up full of holes? Sure, they were mending, but that didn't mean they were any less annoying. Logan roared, not so much in pain as in anger. Pain stimulated the beast within him. The leash was tearing, the chains were breaking. It wanted to be free. It wanted to kill.

Ever since the battle with the witches, and he'd absorbed spells at point blank range with no ill effects, the beast had become stronger and more vivid. It seemed to have merged with his normal personality more, and it made him feel powerful, almost more than human. Of course, he _was_ more than human but he'd always thought of himself as being a man just like any other. The inherent rage was there, but it was no longer just a snarling mass of primal instincts. He could feel it more clearly. It was helping him to make decisions, and it made him stronger too. He didn't understand why. It was as if there was a bubbling pool of undefined energy inside him, waiting to be released. Either it was that, or he was hallucinating.

The arrows fell out of his body as his wounds healed. Other arrows had bounced off his adamantium skeleton and fallen harmlessly to the floor. He didn't wait to repeat the pin cushion performance again. Six vampires leapt for him at once, no doubt hoping to overwhelm him with numbers. He didn't bother to tell them that six was nothing—they would find out soon enough.

His claws sliced through the torso of one vampire and into the neck of another. He dropped down to the floor on purpose so that the others would fly over him and land somewhere on the other side, where there were others waiting to take care of them.

There were high pitched hisses as Sookie used her newfound telekinesis to throw the fallen arrows back at their enemies. They flew faster than they would have from those short curved bows and one arrow even managed to skewer two vampires through the heart. Marie's hand to hand combat skills could use a little brushing up, but she was almost holding her own, although Pam was helping her. The two of them made quite a team. It probably had something to do with the fact that both of them had trained in the Danger Room before, and under the Wolverine's own instruction.

He noticed the vampire who had first proposed going against this high council thing. He seemed to be the leader, and from his experience, capturing the leader was almost always going to win a war. The Spanish vampire might be surrounded by ring upon ring of guards, but he could deal with them, perhaps with a little bit of help. 'Sookie', he thought. 'Sookie, toss me at the Spanish vamp.'

Since her telepathy was only just beginning to let her transmit thoughts and messages, it took her a while for the reply to get through to him. 'I don't know,' she thought at him a little tentatively. 'It could be dangerous.' She doubted herself.

'I trust you,' he thought at her.

He felt pressure building around him as she concentrated her energy on him. And then he was flying at that vampire. Everything around him became streaks of colour. He simply focused on the vampire in front of him. His claws entered the vampire's chest before the vampire could react. That was before Logan even landed.

Sookie, despite her self-doubt, had managed to manoeuvre him through the air so well that he landed on his feet, as opposed to on his face. "Stop!" he shouted. "Or I kill your man!" They did stop, although by the looks of things, they were just surprised that he'd actually gotten to De Castro. His allies were impressed, and his enemies were re-evaluating their decision to fight.

"Kill him," said Sparrow. "He's not our man."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," growled Logan. He was not in the mood for any of Sparrow's shit right now.

"The human's right," said another vampire. "I don't really give a damn if he lives or dies."

"I do," said a second vampire. "I want him finally _dead_."

"Doesn't seem like you're too popular, bub," Logan said to his hostage.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, human," spat the Spanish vampire. Flecks of blood landed on Logan's face.

"No? I know exactly what's hangin' off the end of my claws."

"Do you think I would be so foolish as to do all of this without an ally?"

"I don't see nobody comin' to help you."

The vampire laughed, and then he became rigid. Most people seemed confused. For one of the first times ever since meeting these vampires, Logan wasn't amongst the confused ones. He could see the tendrils of light surrounding Sookie. These tendrils snaked out to wrap themselves around De Castro's head. She was reading his mind. Not just reading it, but rummaging through it. Could this be counted assault?

"I can't get anything," she said. "Someone's blocked off that part of his mind. It's like...the Great Firewall or something."

De Castro laughed. He looked terrible, with blood staining his teeth and lips, plus three claws protruding from his chest.

"Let me try," said Helen. She glided forward. Her face was streaked with the blood of her enemies, but somehow, she was still the most beautiful woman Logan had ever seen. It wasn't just her face or her body, but something else that made men want to touch her, even though they knew that she was unobtainable. She was perfection. She was life. She was death. She was completely out of the reach of mortal men, or immortal ones, for that matter.

She place her hands around De Castro's head. Her brow furrowed. "I cannot get anything either," she said at last.

"But you said you're the daughter of a god!" Logan blurted out. "Aren't you supposed to be all powerful, omnipresent, omnipotent, yada yada and all that shit?"

"I may be a daughter of Zeus, but there are other things out there that are much older and far more powerful than I am," replied Helen, looking him straight in the eye. Her eyes mesmerized him, as if they had their own power. He couldn't look away, not that he wanted to. She wasn't trying to intimidate him. She was speaking to him as if he were an equal. "Although, I can surmise that this ally he spoke of is not here in North America. Such a powerful entity can only be found in the Old World."

"So this whole thing about American vampires takin' care of American business was a lie," said Jack. "I knew that."

* * *

**A/N: **Here's a long chapter to make up for the lack of updates. And for those who of you who are wondering when the next 'Chance Encounter V' chapter will be up, I promise that you won't have to wait too long. I have over half the chapter done. My muse is not being particularly helpful.


	42. There's No Place Like Home

**Survival of the Fallen**

**A/N: **Sorry about the severe lack of updates! I had half of this chapter written and then changed it about three hundred times before I had something I was happy with.

**Chapter 42: There's No Place Like Home**

It was all over, and they were leaving the next evening. Finally, she could relax. Well, just a little bit, at any rate. From her understanding of vampire politics, things had not yet stabilized. Eric might have been crowned, but he still had to build the foundations of his reign. As his future...bonded, for lack of a better word, she probably had a bit of work to do herself. What she did reflected on him, although, to be totally honest, it hadn't been her life's ambition to be a man's reflection. Was it not possible for a woman to love a powerful man and not be forever known as being the lover of said powerful man? She couldn't think of a single woman in the world who fit that criteria.

"You are worried again, lover," said the man in question. He caught her from behind, startling her. "Why do you always worry?"

"I wasn't exactly worried," she began slowly as he kissed his way down her neck. He smelled of the coconut shampoo that she used. They'd stopped having separate bottles of shampoo long ago. Well, not that long ago. All right, so it had started after they'd come to Rhodes. He was naked and his skin was still slightly warm and damp from the shower. She liked him like that. Oh, stuff it. She liked him in whatever way he came, whether it was covered in after battle gore or wrapped up in a tuxedo like a present waiting to be unwrapped.

"Tell me," he murmured. His tongue delved between her breasts. She moaned involuntarily and then pushed him away.

"I can't say a single coherent sentence when you do that."

"I think you're still too coherent for my liking. I must be doing something wrong." He seemed slightly annoyed that his exploration of her body had been interrupted, and amused that she was resilient enough to resist him, even if it was only for five minutes. Or maybe one minute. "What is it that is on your mind, Marie? Tell me. Perhaps I can help you with it."

"Would I have to quit my job if I became your bonded?"

"Do you want to quit?"

"No! I mean, no. I don't want to quit. I wouldn't know what to do. I can't just let you support me, Eric."

"That, I do know. What has brought this on?"

"I was just thinking that every wife of a powerful man is simply known as being his wife. I don't want to be just a girlfriend or arm candy. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I want to be able to be a woman who can hold her own and pull her own weight. I want it all. I want you, I want my career, whatever that's going to be, and I want a social life. I want to have my cake and be able to eat it too." She paused. "Do you think I'm greedy?"

"I like greedy," said the vampire. "And if I had thought you were anything else then, believe me, I don't think you'd have kept my interest for all that long."

"So...you'd let me continue with my job?"

"Not exactly. You would keep on doing what you are doing now, but there will be some differences in your job description. I would have you be a part of my...well, my version of the Privy Council, if you are willing."

Her jaw dropped. He really had too much faith in her if he thought that she could do anything that was related to the government of a kingdom. She wasn't even old enough to buy a drink at a bar yet, and vampires were a notoriously complicated bunch. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"I would not joke about such things," said Eric.

"But I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm nobody important!"

"Your sense of self worth is appalling, my little lover. You are most definitely somebody important. You are the succubus who is to be bonded to a vampire king. You are the cousin of a faerie princess. You are the ward of the Wolverine. Most importantly, you are a bold young woman who is not afraid to speak her mind even in the face of danger and even death. You are intelligent, you are compassionate, your self-control is most admirable because you can somehow find it in you to resist me, and you are a very—"

"And I'm a very sexual creature by nature. I get it." He grinned at that. "But I don't see what that's got to do with it. Would the others even accept it? I haven't done anything like this before."

"And this is the first time I've ever been a vampire," said Eric with a smirk. "I think I'm doing pretty well. There is a first for everything, little Marie, and what I had in mind isn't too different from what you're doing now. Even vampire kings need daytime representatives. You'll have a different title, of course, but as for the job description, there will be a few additional things, but essentially, you're a daywalker who advises me. You will be my eyes and ears during the day."

"You trust me that much?" she asked him. The immense responsibility that came with such a job was dawning on her. It was more like three jobs, really.

"My little succubus, if I didn't trust you, would I have come this far?" asked her vampire with a smirk. He kissed her on her eyelids, both cheeks, and then finally moved down to her mouth. Her lips parted automatically to let him in. Her heartbeat quickened and her knees became weak. Her hand reached behind her desperately to find something to hold onto for support, but she only succeeded in knocking over an empty True Blood bottle. His arm immediately snaked around her waist to make sure that she didn't fall. "You will not fail me. I know you won't."

—

There was nothing on TV. At least, nothing that interested him. Logan was idly flipping through the channels in the hopes of finding something semi-interesting when a news report on the twenty four hour news channel caught his attention. Usually, he didn't give a damn about those news channels, preferring the sports channels more than anything, but this report was not just the usual stuff about suicide bombers in Iraq or some financial thing that bored the hell out of him. A group of vampires had just attacked a bunch of protesters who had picketed their houses and massacred the lot of them. Now the humans were retaliating with urgent new anti-vampire laws and SWAT teams. He didn't have to be a genius to figure out who was behind the picketing. It was so specific that there had to have been a huge organization behind it, and the loudest anti-vampire organization in the United States was the Fellowship of the Sun, headed by one Senator Newlin who, coincidentally, was the one pushing the laws. Now, Logan didn't know a lot about the Fellowship of the Sun and how they worked, apart from the fact that they liked to perform satanic rituals with vampire sacrifices at dawn, but if they were anything worth worrying about, then they would probably know that there was a huge gathering of vampires here in Rhodes.

He threw down the remote and dashed out of his room to alert the others, not caring that he was wearing only his jeans. They'd better get out before the SWAT teams got here. He really hadn't enjoyed his last encounter with secret government services, and he doubted that his opinions would change anytime soon. The vampires must have been feeling rather lively tonight, because there were plenty of 'dinners' wandering around in the corridors, some bearing distinct fang marks whilst others were on their way to getting some. He dodged some and pushed others aside. The first room he came to was Northman's. He didn't care if he was interrupting something. They might hate him now —well, Northman would. Marie would never hate him— but they would thank him later for saving their arses. He banged on the door. "Open up!" he shouted. "If you know what's good for you, Northman, you'll get your arse out here!"

"My arse is otherwise preoccupied!" came the growled reply. "As are other parts of me." Logan didn't bother knocking again. Instead, he kicked the door in, startling the amorous couple. Now, the Wolverine was no prude, but there was something disturbing about witnessing a vampire sex act, especially involving one's protégée. That, apparently, was enough to break the mood.

"What?" growled the vampire as Marie scrambled for cover.

The Wolverine quickly gave him a garbled version of what he'd seen on TV. Instantly, Northman was on the alert. "Meet me in the underground carpark in five minutes," said Northman. "We'll split up and round up as many people as we can."

Logan nodded. It was the only thing they could do, if his estimations were correct and usually, his instincts weren't too far off the mark.

—

He was in the middle of calling Pam when the phones all went dead. All he could hear was static, and he could only assume that there was something interfering with the signal. Clever humans. They knew that the vampires would be preparing, and they'd effectively stopped them from communicating, at least in the conventional manner. With Pam, he could call her through the blood, but there was little he could do about the others, except to go and physically hunt them down. There simply wasn't enough time if the humans were interfering with their phone signals already. It was too bad that the mutants' jet had been left in New York. They really could have used it right about now.

Instead, they were going to have to make do with getaway vehicles. This was all too sudden. They simply hadn't been prepared for it.

"Go down to the underground carpark," he told Marie, knowing that she would most likely protest. Like her cousin, she wasn't happy to play the damsel in distress. She would much rather be the distressing damsel instead.

"I want to help," she said. He was about to refuse her but one look at her told him that it simply wasn't going to work. His succubus was very stubborn indeed if she put her mind to it.

"Fine," he said. "Go and get a getaway vehicle, and make it a good one."

—

Sookie had been reading when she'd heard Logan 'call' her. He was actually thinking at her, and he sounded desperate. A closer inspection of his thoughts —which he was projecting as hard as he could— told her that he suspected trouble, and rightly so. He was already rounding up the mutants and they were all going down to the underground parking lot where they could get getaway vehicles. It wasn't as if there was another way out to get out of Rhodes. She dashed out of her room and made for the stairs. Something at the back of her mind was telling her that taking the elevators was not a good idea.

It was ridiculous to think that anyone would attack a vampire-filled hotel at night, when all the vampires were awake. However, perhaps that was the single reason why they were attacking right now, when no one had expected it. It certainly gave them the advantage of surprise. Word was spreading that there was going to be an attack very soon. Panic was growing. She could sense the mix of emotions. Some were angry, one person was gleeful —it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was Sabretooth, possibly the only person who liked blood more than vampires did— and the rest were just plain frightened, as they should be. Then she heard it. A group of armed humans had surrounded the hotel. The attackers didn't care who they killed, as long as they killed as many vampires as possible. Fangbangers and vampire sympathizers were considered to be acceptable collateral damage.

The windows of the hotel were all made from bulletproof glass. They didn't shatter when the building was showered with the first round of machine gun fire. However, prolonged strikes caused the glass the crack, and then finally give way. Canisters of tear gas flew in. Only a little of the billowing smoke could get through the fire doors, but it stopped her from seeing what was going on outside. She could hear shouting and screaming. And then, more gunfire. Like candles on a cake, minds were being extinguished. Even though she couldn't see, she could literally feel those people getting killed, mowed down by remorseless pieces of metal and wood. The vampires, of course, were retaliating, but their numbers were already depleted after last night's battle. If they really had to fight, then she was afraid that they wouldn't be able to win. A bullet flew through the glass of the fire door, nearly striking her. Actually, it would have struck her if not for a sudden mini-surge of power which pulsed through her and forced the bullet to turn. Smoke started pouring in. It burned her eyes and her throat. Tears poured down her face. Coughing, she stumbled down the stairs. Down. Turn. Down again. Her leg muscles were burning. She wasn't unfit, per se, but she wasn't accustomed to running down so many flights of stairs at once. More people were joining her.

The stairs were strewn with the bodies of humans who'd been trampled in the stampede. A woman Sookie recognized as being the companion of one of the vampire monarchs lay across the stairwell with her neck bent at an impossible angle and blood pooling beneath her head. Her glassy eyes remained open in death and her once meticulous make-up had been smeared so badly that she resembled the Joker from Batman. Once upon a time, she would have screamed or cried, or both. Now, she was almost numb to death. Perhaps it was as she'd said. Tonight's horror would dawn on her later. Right now, she was too intent on getting out of here alive to really feel anything.

They heard shouts behind them and in front of them. There were many hate-filled minds, all pin-pointed at one single goal; capture as many vampires and vampire sympathizers as possible, and kill the rest. She glimpsed images of an underground laboratory with rows upon rows of cells, all lined with silver, as if there was any vampire in the world who could actually dig through five feet of steel and concrete. How much vampire blood had the Fellowship had to sell in order to build this leviathan? Or were they being federally funded?

She was so busy thinking about the attack that she didn't notice someone was running in the opposite direction until she crashed into him. It was like running into a brick wall.

"Sookie?" said Logan. "What are you still doing in 'ere?" His claws were out and stained with blood.

"I'm trying to get out," she wheezed. "What are you doing running in the wrong direction?"

"Because there are people after me. Duck!"

Sookie ducked. She heard a 'clunk' as the bullet struck the Wolverine. It didn't deter him one bit. However, instead of attack the people who'd shot him, like he would normally do, Logan pulled her to her feet and the two of them stumbled through the door and into a corridor with only a couple of soldiers. They shouted in alarm when they saw the mutant and telepath. Logan didn't let them get over their shock.

"On the count of three," he said as he threw her over his shoulder. "Three!"

And then he leapt out through the frigging seventh storey window. Someone should really have taught him how to count.

—

The coroner's van was big, roomy, with tinted windows and a light-tight space in the back. There was also a decomposing body in a body bag at the back, but that could not be helped. Pam heaved it out of the van's back doors. "It's not like he's going to care anyway," she said with a shrug when Marie gave her a pointed look. The dead, it must be noted, did not have much respect for the dead. "And we need the room."

There was a thump as something landed on the roof of the van. Eric. He climbed in through the open window and slid into the front seat. "When I said a good getaway vehicle, I did not mean something that transported dead things to the morgue."

"It's fittin' for you," said Jack. "Or would you have preferred a hearse?"

"Shut it, pirate," growled Eric. "You shoot. I'll drive."

"No! I'm drivin'—I mean, of course, your nibs."

Jack clambered out of the driver's seat as Eric shifted himself into it as if he did such things every day. Jack, of course, was not as nimble as a vampire, and there was a tangle of limbs as he tried to get himself into a seat. He ended up on the floor at the back when Eric swerved to avoid hitting a hummer. The van screeched to a stop in the underground car park. Theodora and Sybille clambered in. Marie had never seen Queen Sybille look so…dishevelled. The woman had never been less than perfect. However, there were more important things to worry about right now.

"Where's Logan and Sookie?" she asked.

—

The pavement cracked when Logan landed on it, and the impact drove Sookie's breath from her lungs. However, she'd survived the fall. Well, she was cushioned by over two hundred pounds of Wolverine, but still; it was a miracle. He didn't put her down. He just ran before the soldiers could get over their shock. Lots more people —humans, weres, vampires— were running out. Logan ran into the crowd, with Sookie still slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She tried pounding on his back and ended up hurting her fist. That should teach her to hit an almost indestructible man.

Logan did turn her around so that she was on his back instead. "It's faster this way, trust me," he said.

"I'm not that slow!"

"My legs are longer than yours, Sookie." Well, that was true.

The crowd of supes branched out into every available alleyway, disappearing on rooftops and behind dark buildings. Weres shifted. Some became cats and rats and mangy looking dogs. She supposed it was an easy way to hide. The wolves and tigers didn't have it so easy. Vampires used their speed to their advantage. And Logan? Well, Logan used his apparent humanity to its very best effect. When the soldiers neared them, he suddenly pushed her up against the side of a building.

'Kiss me,' he thought at her. She got what he was trying to do. He wanted them to think they were just a good for nothing couple getting it on in an alley. That would explain their dishevelled state. His mouth was hot, and his stubble scratched her face. He was nothing like Bill, and strangely enough, kissing him didn't feel as awkward as she thought it would. He was very good at it. She found herself burying her fingers in his tightly curled hair. It was coarse to the touch, but somehow, she'd expected it. He growled. She could feel his more animalistic instincts taking over. Heck, he was enjoying this as much as she was. Was it wrong? They weren't romantically attached. They weren't anything more than friends.

But he was good, she'd give him that, and she was a healthy young heterosexual woman on hormones.

However, that would have to be put on hold for now.

"Hey, you seen any vampires around, mister?" asked the captain of the squadron that had been chasing them earlier.

"What makes you think I saw anythin'?" said Logan in the most awful mock Southern twang possible. The soldier shone his torch at Sookie, making her narrow her eyes in the light. She blushed when she realized he was inspecting a) the beard burn on her face and b) her chest.

"All right, troops!" shouted the captain once he was satisfied that this seemingly 'white trash' couple could not possibly be connected to the vampires in that fancy hotel they just trashed. If they were, they wouldn't be making out here in an alleyway full of discarded needles and condoms that were most likely used for heroin trafficking and not sex.

The soldiers ran past them. Finally, they were out of earshot. "Sorry," said Logan. "Best I could think of at the time."

"It's okay," said Sookie awkwardly. Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, she was mortified. However, one could say that her actions were justified. It wasn't as if she was making out with some stranger for the sake of making out. She'd been making out with her cousin's best friend for the sake of survival. "Thanks for the heads up."

"That was for my sake, not yours," said Logan with a grin. "If I hadn't told you, you'd have kicked me in the balls."

"Well, I might have slapped you, but that's about it," said Sookie. "Unless you wouldn't back off, of course."

He chuckled. "Come on," he said. "We'd better get moving before those idiots figure out that we lied to them."

"We didn't lie," said Sookie. "We were simply vague about the truth."

—

"Where are we heading?" It was a very valid question; one to which Jack did not have the answer. Oh well. He could just pretend he knew.

"Somewhere safe," he said.

"If it's Tortuga, Jack, you can forget it," said Sybille.

"It's much nicer than when you were there last, luvvie—I mean, m'lady."

"Ignoring the fact that I don't trust your judgement," said Sybille, "how are we going to get to Jamaica from Illinois?"

"Where do you suggest then, your nibs?"

"Mississippi," said Sybille. "No one would think to look for fugitive vampires in an overtly anti-vampire state."

"Where would we hide?" asked Marie. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized her mistake.

"Your parents live in Mississippi, don't they?" asked Pam.

"Yes, but I don't think it's a good idea."

"Like I said, they wouldn't expect us to be hiding there," said Sybille.

"Your Majesty, I really don't—" began Marie.

"Please," said Sybille. "From now on, I no longer own New York. We are all monarchs in exile, and a queen without a kingdom is nothing at all. Call me Sibylla."

—

The only money they had was the fifty dollars in Logan's back pocket. They also had a cell phone, but they were afraid to use it in case someone was listening in on their calls. That was about it. They had no car, no spare clothes, no nothing. And they're trying to get from Illinois to…to where?

"Just out of here," said Logan when Sookie asked him. "Maybe New York, maybe Canada—"

"Are we going to walk to Canada?"

"We could steal a car if that's better for you."

"Logan! You're a teacher!"

"I'm a survivor first and foremost." She supposed it was true. He was the result of millions of years of evolution that was then perfected by the most advanced human technology to date. He'd lived through wars and fought hopeless battles. Still, Canada was not an option. They had to find the others. Where would they go? Not New York, because everyone knew that Sybille was a prominent figure there, so that was where the SWAT teams would look for her. Eric was likely to be with Sybille, since they seemed friendly. She had no clue about what Jack would do although she could guarantee it would be crazy. And Marie…well, Marie would stay with Eric, of course.

Bill could go to hell for all she cared.

So, it all boiled down to where Sybille and Eric would be able to decide on. Louisiana? Maybe. However, New Orleans was vampire central and everyone in Bon Temps knew that Sookie Stackhouse and her cousin associated with vampires. Washington, where all the old tunnels were? Too far. They needed a place to stay. In times like these, vampires would search for sanctuary in a human home.

Perhaps…Marie's old house? Was it possible? It was a wild guess, but somehow, her gut decided that was it. "Logan, how long would it take for us to get to Mississippi?" she asked.

"Are we talking about by foot or by hummer?" he asked. Hummer?

Moments later, she heard it; the unmistakeable sound of a motor vehicle. A hummer was speeding towards them. It pulled up next to the edge of the road, and a tinted window was wound down. "Get in," said Van Helsing. "Honestly, I can't leave you for two minutes without you finding trouble of some kind."

"It was more than two minutes and we didn't find trouble," said Logan as he clambered in. "Trouble found us. It wasn't my fault."

—

They ditched the Rhodes' coroner's van a mile outside Jackson and walked the rest of the way. They'd spent two days on the road. Jack must have foreseen the future when he'd taken the coroner's van because they wouldn't have been able to travel during the day if it hadn't been for the light tight space at the back. Along the way, they'd painted over the words on the van, but no doubt someone would have been searching for the van, so it was best just to abandon it. The vampires, Theodora and Jack combed the vehicle for clues and got rid of them. Then Theodora torched the van just for good measure.

As she stood in front of the little house with the white veranda and white picket fence, Marie felt a surge of panic. She didn't belong here. How could she be here? There were so many painful memories, and even the good memories were tainted. Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked up the little paved path. Inside, she could hear the television going. Her dad only ever watched television after dinner. Her mother was practising piano. It was as if nothing had changed and she was just coming home after a date or perhaps gymnastics practise.

But everything had changed. She felt her friends' presence behind her. She felt Eric behind her. He was watching her back. She summoned her courage and knocked on the door. "Valera," she heard her father say. "Go get the door." For a fleeting moment, she tried to imagine what would happen next. Would Eric and Sibylla have to glamour her parents? She hoped not. No matter what they did to her, they were still her parents.

Her mother opened the door. "Hello, Mom," said Marie. Their last conversation was still fresh on her mind. For a moment, the older woman was stunned. And then she found her voice. "Get off my veranda," she said hoarsely. "You're not my daughter!"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this," said Eric. "You will invite us in. All of us."

Valera's eyes became blank. She gave them an empty smile. "Yes. Of course," she said. "Come in. Make yourself at home."

"Who is it, Valera?" called Marie's father from the living room. Richard D'Ancanto was a very average man of very average height. His once mousy hair had thinned and become grey over the years. He trudged out in his plaid slippers, and then his face paled when he saw who his wife had just let in. Eric didn't give him time to disinvite them. With vampire speed, he grabbed the man by the throat and glamoured him. Just like that. Very soon, her father's eyes were as vacant as her mother's. They smiled at them and welcomed them. All their words were empty.

—

It was so strange, being back in her old room. Her old posters were still up and the bed still had that pale green bedspread. It was as if she'd never left at all. But it had been four years. She ran her fingers along the edges of her old school books. There was an unfinished paper on the top of the pile. Her handwriting seemed so immature then. Being in her old room was like being in a stranger's bedroom. None of the things in it said anything about the person she was now. Her entire world had changed.

On her wall were a few photos of her and her friends. There was Cody with his arm around her, grinning goofily at the camera during their prom night. There were Sandra and her in bathing suits by the local pool. There she was with her parents in their Sunday best. The people in the pictures seemed so happy with their perfect lives. Whatever had happened?

Someone knocked on the door. She turned around to find Eric standing there. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

"Yes, and it's a good thing," she said. There was no point in regretting the past. She had her future now. It was just so hard to not think of what could have been. She could have had a super normal life with super normal friends. She'd have gone to college and then gone on her road trip around North America with Cody and perhaps a few others. She'd never have met the gruff and big-hearted Logan or the enigmatic Eric. She'd have been just another normal young human woman who associated with other humans. She'd probably have gotten engaged after graduation, worked for a couple of years and then settled down to pop out some kids. Who knew? Perhaps they might have even taught her to hate supernaturals, although she liked to think that she had a predisposition to be accepting of other races and species. Just one little thing had made her life take on a whole new meaning and direction.

Eric seemed to know what she was thinking. Instead of assuring her that she was better off now and a stronger person for what she had gone through and all that encouraging stuff that friends say, he just went and flopped onto her bed. The springs creaked. "Are you not going to join me, my lover?" he asked.

She didn't need a second invitation. That Eric. He knew just how to distract her. "You," she said as she straddled him, "are a very bad vampire, Mr. Northman."

"I was under the impression that I was rather good at being a vampire," he murmured as he pulled her down for a kiss. "Come, my little succubus. Let us create new memories of this room for you."

—

"How did you find us anyway?" Logan asked Van Helsing as he tore into a double cheeseburger. He ordered three. Sookie knew the answer to the question. Van Helsing was the archangel Gabriel. Of course he knew. Why the archangel would be so interested in a bunch of vampires and mutants who seemed to cause so much trouble was another matter entirely. He'd mentioned that he'd hunted some of the most notorious vampires in history, so why should he be on their side?

"There are many networks in the supernatural world that I tap into," said Van Helsing. "It would be impossible not to hear about an attack on a vampire summit."

"But how did you know where to find us?" asked Logan. "We're in the middle of nowhere and you just come zoomin' up in your hummer. You didn't put a trackin' chip on me, did you?"

"I don't need a tracking chip to find you, Logan," said Van Helsing. "Let's just leave it at that." The angel was hiding something. Sookie knew it, but it didn't seem polite to pry. After all, he was the Archangel, and he'd saved their lives numerous times. Someone as old and as powerful as he was probably was entitled to have a couple of secrets.

"This ain't over, bub," said the Wolverine, who obviously didn't think the same way as Sookie did. Then again, Logan didn't know that Van Helsing was not just a random monster hunter. "I still wanna know, and you're gonna tell me everythin' once we get to…where are we goin'?"

—


	43. Not Trying to Find North

**Survival of the Fallen**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 44: Not Trying to Find North**

Marie's eyes were half-closed in post-coital bliss as she enjoyed the feeling of Eric's strong fingers working out the knots in her muscles. Suddenly, he stopped and got off the bed. She propped herself up on her elbow. "Eric?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering her, he plucked something off her bookshelf. Oh no. Oh hell no! He turned around with a gleeful grin on his face, brandishing a notebook with a ridiculously sparkly pink cover. He'd found her old diary. Her purple glitter pen with the tuft of feathers was there too, still in the diary's pen loop.

"What's this?" he asked.

She scrambled out of bed. "Give it to me," she said, trying in vain to snatch it out of his hand. He just held it out of reach. He was, after all, much taller than she was. "Eric, please, it's full of nonsense." She used to dot her 'I's with hearts. And she remembered how much she used to love glitter. It practically covered every page. Pink and gold glitter.

"I'm sure you didn't think it was nonsense back then," he said.

"I was fourteen when I started writing that! I was stupid like most fourteen year olds!"

Eric opened the book randomly. A strip of photo booth pictures of her and Cody fell out of her old diary. They were making stupid faces at the camera. Marie almost didn't recognize herself in those pictures. She looked so young and happy and silly. She couldn't afford to be silly now. Eric paid no heed to the pictures, and he was no longer grinning. What had she written on that page? She couldn't remember.

This time, when she took the book from the vampire, he did not try to stop her. Her heart fell as she saw her childish handwriting. In sparkly letters, she'd spelled out how much she was looking forward to the day when she could have a baby and practically mapping out her entire life with Cody, whom she'd just started dating.

She put the book down on the bed and tentatively touched his arm. He was as still as a marble statue. He turned his eyes to her. They were so full of regret. "I am sorry," he said softly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said.

"But you want children, and I cannot…"

"Eric, I wrote that a long time ago. Things have changed, and I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to you. I don't regret anything. I just hope you don't regret anything either."

"If I regret anything, it's that I can't give you everything you want." He was a little less distressed now, but he still blamed himself for something that he couldn't help. Eric was very advanced in many ways, but at heart, he was still a medieval man with medieval ideals. He felt it was his duty to give her children now that they were committed to one another, and that he somehow owed her because he couldn't. And here she was, thinking that at this stage of their relationship, they were beyond remembering who owed who what.

"It's not as if I can have a child anyway," said Marie. "I don't see how I can carry a person inside me when I can't touch anyone without killing them."

"Would your choice have been different if it were possible for you to…?" He trailed off.

She lifted her head from his chest to look him in the eye. It wasn't easy, and she had to tilt her head right back. He was so tall. "Eric, I'm not with you because I have no other choice," she said. "I'm with you because you're the best choice, and even if things were different, I wouldn't have chosen anyone else."

He believed her. Thank goodness he believed her. It was so unnerving to be the one doing the reassuring. Before this, she hadn't thought that Eric, of all people, would have insecurities. It just went to show that no one was completely impervious. "Thank you," he whispered.

"And what will I get as a token of your gratitude, Your Majesty?" she asked. She had no doubt that he would express his thanks in a more than adequate manner.

Well, he would have, if Logan didn't suddenly burst through the door. Dear Logan. He had such excellent timing. Not.

"I'm not interruptin' anythin', am I?" he asked. Then he didn't bother waiting for either of them to answer. "Good, coz we're havin' a war council downstairs and we need you there."

"How did you even find us?" demanded Eric.

"One word. Van Helsing."

"That's two words, Wolverine."

—

Sookie was right; the others had gone to Mississippi, and to Marie's parents' place, no less. Logan was beginning to wonder if Sookie was psychic. From the outside, everything looked very normal. The fence was so white that it could probably feature in an ad for toothpaste, and the hedges were neatly trimmed, as if someone used a t-square to make sure that the tops of the bushes were perfectly parallel to the ground. Order, of course, was superficial.

Inside, there were a good number of fugitives. Jack was the one who opened the door and greeted them, bottle of rum in hand. Somehow, even when on the run from the authorities, he still managed to find his beloved beverage. He took one look at the remnants of beard burn on Sookie's face and gave a whistle. Logan had to refrain from punching him in the nose. Not that it would have done Sparrow much good. Sparrow was the type to bounce back from anything, even death by kraken. Actually, he still wasn't sure whether he believed the kraken tale or not since the sea turtle escapades had turned out to be bogus. Seriously, how had he even fallen for it in the first place?

"Gabriel, it is good to see you," said Sybille as soon as she saw them. "And I am relieved to see that you are alive, Wolverine."

"Did you expect anythin' else?" asked Logan. God, he needed a smoke.

"I have learned long ago not to presume," said the vampire queen. "And Miss Stackhouse, your cousin would be glad to know that you are also alive." There was something different about the vampire. She wasn't as…polished. There was no doubting her aristocratic lineage, but she wasn't as perfect as she had seemed back in the hotel.

"Thank you, your majesty," said Sookie awkwardly. Clearly, she didn't like titles either.

"Please, I am a queen without a kingdom, which means I am nothing at all," said Sybille. She gave a sad little smile. "Now I am only Sibylla."

It was unnerving, to see her thus, but none of them had any time to dwell on the losses of kingdoms and whatnot. They had to worry about survival first. They were hunted people now, and most likely on America's Most Wanted list. The nation, which had been uncertain about vampires before, had plunged into anti-vampire furore.

"Your M—Sibylla, did you glamour my aunt and uncle?" asked Sookie suddenly.

"Oh no, I did not," said Sybille. Well, Sibylla now. Seriously, why did she need two names anyway? "Eric did."

—

They came for them during the middle of dinner. The mutants and vampires were completely unprepared for the attack. Smoke bombs were tossed through the windows. And then Molotov cocktails. Everything burst into flames. It was so difficult to see, so difficult to hear. All she could think about was getting everyone out, including her glamoured parents. Marie tried to clear her lungs of the fumes, but she couldn't, because they were everywhere. Eric. Where was Eric? And Logan? And Sookie? And…and…

She felt a hand grab her bare upper arm. It wasn't a vampire, however. Vampires did not have body heat. "This way!" shouted Van Helsing. Now she really knew he was a supernatural being of some sort, but this was not the time to question him about it.

Her house was falling around her. She tried to scream Eric's name, but all she could do was cough as acrid smoke burned her lungs. Where was Pyro when he was actually needed? Or Bobby? Bobby could have put out the fire. Bobby Drake, that was, not Durnham. The relatively cool night air hit her face like a bucket of cold water. She wheezed and choked as her body tried to rid itself of the smoke inside her lungs. There was no reprieve. Van Helsing handed her off to someone else. Sibylla.

"What about the others?" she managed to gasp as the former queen of New York manoeuvred her into Van Helsing's hummer. Sookie was there too, her eyes wide with shock and fear and soot coating her skin. Jack was also present, although he was mighty peeved that his rum got blown up again and was very vocal about it. Why was it that he always found a way out of trouble? Mystique was already starting up the vehicle, but she moved aside when Van Helsing climbed into the driver's seat. It was his vehicle, after all.

Sibylla climbed into the front seat and slammed the door. "I don't know," she said. "I pray to God they will be fine, but God has never answered my prayers before, so there is no reason for Him to start doing so now."

The car roared off into the night, charging through the barriers set up by the soldiers who had attacked the house. Bullets cracked the glass of the humvee, but obviously Van Helsing's car was as spectacular as his person because the glass did not shatter, nor did the bullets ever come through. Marie twisted around to look out the back windshield. Her entire past was going up in flames, and she hoped that her future wasn't in that bonfire as well.

—

Life sucked. It really did. Still, even though it sucked, Logan still wanted to live a little longer, thank you very much. Not that he was afraid of dying. However, dying for absolutely no reason at all was just pointless, and he didn't like doing pointless unpleasant things. Singing in the shower was pointless too, but at least he enjoyed that.

What he did not enjoy was getting shot at multiple times in one week, especially not with a Cure dart.

It felled him the way a bullet would fell a normal man. The pain from that little syringe was worse than the bullet holes in his body, although he suspected he would feel them a lot more keenly very soon. He felt someone hoisting him up. It was Northman. The two of them were completely surrounded.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he remembered hearing was the vampire's battle cry.

—

Five hundred feet. That was the furthest she could teleport away. At least she managed to take Pam with her, but in light of what was happening, Theodora felt that it was beyond inadequate. She was a fucking useless daywalking ex-vampire. Perhaps she should just go and quit her job as an investigator for the High Council and become a war correspondent instead, since all she seemed to be capable of doing was observe events but not do anything to change them. She was utterly fucking useless.

"What are we going to do?" Pam asked as she watched the fanatics take her maker away. She was all for attacking them, but what would that achieve? Their deaths would not save Eric and the nephilim. They needed a plan. And reinforcements.

"We will find the others," said Theodora.

"What? Are you insane? Eric is out there!"

"What do you propose? A suicide charge?"

"I can't believe you are such a coward, after everything that my master has done for you. I'd rather die the final death than let them take him."

"And how is your final death going to help him?"

The two women glared at one another. Theodora understood where Pam was coming from. Did the vampire think that she didn't feel awful about the situation as well? Eric had been the one who she had always turned to after every disaster in her life. He'd stopped her from meeting the sun right after she was turned, he'd convinced her that she was a desirable woman every time one of her lovers let her down. Whenever she had a problem, she would turn to Eric instead of either her father or her mother (who were interchangeable, really). She loathed how she wasn't able to help him now.

But the truth was that she was weak, despite her being a daywalking, living, breathing vampire. When she gave up her status as one of the undead, she became vulnerable. A bullet would kill her the way it would kill any other human, and those fanatics had a lot of bullets. The only magic she could do, apart from her limited teleportation, was make potions. Unless she planned on drugging every one of those soldiers —an impossible task now that there were such things as taps, there wasn't anything that she could do. At least not on her own.

A hummer was coming down the road towards them. Van Helsing had found them.

"Get in," he said. "Where are Northman and Logan?"

—

They'd taken them; the two people she cared most about in the entire world. She felt as if there was a weight sitting on top of her chest, slowly crushing her. She couldn't sleep. She could hardly breathe. If only she'd been back there, then maybe she could have done something with her 'succubus' powers.

But what? The men had cure darts, and they would have 'cured' her, rendering her utterly useless and vulnerable.

"It's my fault," Sookie whispered. "I should have heard them coming. I should have sensed them."

"Sookie, you are only human," said Van Helsing. "You can't blame yourself for everything. Logan and Northman knew what they were doing when they stayed behind to bring up the rear."

"Regret won't achieve nuthin'," said Jack, who didn't sound too regretful. He took a swig from the bottle of absinthe he'd found in the hummer. When Marie glared at him, he simply shrugged. "What we need is a plan. And…" He fished around in his pockets, spilling lots of rubbish onto the backseat —and all over Sookie's lap— before he found what he was looking for. "Tada!"

At first glance, it looked just like any antique compass, but then Mystique pointed out that it was broken. How was a broken compass supposed to help them? Jack must be clinically insane.

"Me compass ain't broken," said Jack. "It's unique."

"Unique being synonymous with broken?" snapped Marie, who was in no mood for Jack's nonsense.

"Me compass might not point north, but it ain't north that you're tryin' to find, innit?" said Jack. His grin didn't fade at all. "Well, not north in that sense, anyway." He offered her the compass. It was such a generous gesture that Marie wondered what had happened to the real Jack.

She took the compass, not sure of what she was supposed to do with it. In the rear view mirror, Van Helsing smiled. If Sibylla were awake, maybe she would have explained, but it was daytime and the two vampires were sleeping under a thick tarpaulin in the back, along with all the tools of Van Helsing's trade.

The compass' needle started spinning, and then it settled on one direction.

"That is where we wanna go," said Jack. "The compass points to your heart's desire. It's much better than borin' old north."

—

Miami. That had to be where the Fellowship fanatics were taking Logan and the Viking. It was the only Fellowship base in this direction. His contacts had confirmed it. Van Helsing glanced in the rear view mirror. The sun would not set for at least another half hour. Sibylla was probably awake, being as old as she was, but she couldn't come out until it was completely dark.

The two girls were asleep. Poor things. Even in sleep, their faces were etched with worry. The little succubus had curled up into a ball, pulling far away from everyone so that she couldn't hurt them.

"Do you really think we'll find them?" asked Theodora.

"You should know better than to question me compass," said Jack. "It only ever fails when you don't know what you want, and that lassie knows exactly what she wants."

"We'll find them," said Van Helsing. He'd go to hell and back to find the Wolverine if that was what it took.

"And what will we do when we find them?" asked Mystique. "Do you plan on charging in without a plan at all and making it up as you go along?"

"That usually works," said Jack.

—

They weren't the only ones who had headed for Florida. When they arrived, Theodora received word from Queen Helen that she was also here, and she wasn't alone. Bill Compton had managed to escape from the hotel, thanks to the ancient Greek vampire.

Helen hadn't saved Bill on purpose. She'd done it because he happened to be lucky enough to be close by when she was making her escape. Being a member of the High Council, her duty was to all vampires so she believed it was her responsibility to make sure that as few vampires died as possible, which was fair enough, Sookie supposed. Having Helen there made her feel better, because Helen wasn't just an ancient vampire.

She was a daywalking, half-divine ancient vampire. With Zeus' essence in her, she was able to withstand the rays of the sun.

The plan was rather simple. They would infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun, much like that other attempt, except this time they'd be dressing up as scientists. Sookie supposed it ought to work better this time, as they had the numbers and the equipment.

"We will scout the area tonight," said Helen. "You cannot run a successful rescue mission if you do not know the layout of the base. I need blueprints."

"Not a problem," said Mystique. "Just get me a computer and I will start on it."

"I can help," said Bill.

"And I can find some of those fanatics for you to interrogate," said Pam.

"Count me in on that one," said Marie.

"I think you should stay here and prepare our disguises," said Van Helsing. "And I do not like the idea of kidnapping humans, Ms Ravenscroft."

"They will not be harmed…much," said Pam.

—

He roared in pain and sheer frustration. Blood trickled from the wounds between his knuckles and dripped from his fingertips. Agony shot through him again as another electric charge travelled through his metal-coated skeleton, making him spasm so hard that the entire table shook. His claws popped out again involuntarily. The electricity was making a wreck of his nervous system.

"I am still not sure how you managed to install these," said Steve Newlin as he tapped on Logan's now extended claws with the cattle prod. He pressed the button on the prod, sending electrical charges shooting down the claws and into Logan's arm. His veins and tendons were bulging from the strain.

"I evolved," spat the Wolverine.

"Please stop talking nonsense," said the senator. "There is no such thing as evolution. God created all creatures exactly as they are."

"And you're supposedly created in the image of God, but I can't believe God has a face like that." The comment earned him yet another electric shock. His entire body was covered in a film of sweat and he was gasping for breath, but the Wolverine's spirit was hard to do away with. Just because he had temporarily lost his healing powers didn't mean that he had ceased to be himself.

"You have such a tongue on you, demon," said Newlin. "I wonder if you would grow it back if I cut it out? Now that's a thought."

Logan snarled, but the threat was empty, at least for the time being. He willed himself to become stronger, to heal, to recover.

"We're trying to isolate what makes you heal so quickly," said Newlin. "Imagine, indestructible Soldiers of the Sun. Devils like you would not be able to stand against our might."

"Good luck with that," said Logan. "It takes more than just a healing gene to be me, and don't you believe in four elements?" Newlin sent another jolt of electricity through him. This one must have been particularly strong, because the next thing he knew was darkness. He wandered through it for a long time, searching for a way out. He knew he was unconscious, and if he was to get out of here, he had to wake up first, and then make other arrangements. Now that he was weak, he couldn't just charge into things. Planning, however, was not his forte.

—

"He's here," Sookie whispered. "Logan's here." She could also hear his pain and frustration. They'd been torturing him, and he was weak. He hated being so weak. The telepath forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Her anger burned at the back of her mind, and the fiery darkness would engulf her if she didn't keep it under control. It was just that there was nothing she hated more than the fact that the people she loved were being hurt. "Steve Newlin is here too."

"I'm going to end him," hissed Theodora.

"That's only of secondary importance," said Marie. "This is a rescue, not an assassination attempt. Although, if given the chance, I'd kill him too."

They were all unrecognizable, having had new haircuts, spray tans, or spray freckles. There were even latex noses and fake eyebrows that looked very real indeed.

Pam had really gone and kidnapped one of the Fellowship members working at the base, and they'd questioned him thoroughly. By that, it really meant that they'd had two telepaths go through his mind to milk every bit of information he had.

No one paid much to the group of scientists and assistants. Strangely enough, or not, no one volunteered to be prisoners to make the act more convincing.

Once they'd gotten inside, they split up into smaller groups so that they could cover more distance in less time. The lab was a giant maze. The long clean corridors lit up by cold fluorescent lights reminded Sookie of a hospital, or a prison. Metal doors lined the walls. Solid stainless steel doors coated in silver. At the end of the corridor, there were two more corridors, each heading in the opposite direction.

"Once we break them out, the sirens will sound," Gabriel reminded them before they split. "Remember, that's the cue to get out."

"What if the sirens sound before we get them?" asked Sookie.

"If it comes to that, then we'll have to fight," said Gabriel bluntly. "I would have preferred not to use too much violence, but sometimes, it is inevitable." Sookie sensed that he was hiding something. Wasn't he supposed to keep the peace between humans and supernaturals? This raid was the first skirmish that would start off a long war between the Fellowship of the Sun and the entire world of supernaturals. Perhaps other humans would join in. Too many people had interfered by now. There was no turning back. Sure, the humans had struck the first blow, but as a whole, that hardly mattered. What mattered was that there was going to be war.

Her expression must have betrayed her feelings. Gabriel glanced down, just briefly. No one else noticed it but her, for they hadn't been watching him. Then she heard his voice in her mind. 'Perhaps, if I were completely selfless, I would be able to avert this conflict, but I am far from perfect,' he told her.

—

How could humans be so cruel to another creature, even though they were not of the same species? Her anger bubbled up inside her, and it increased as she became more aware of Eric's presence, as faint as it was. Where was he? How was he? What had they done to him?

"Do you feel him?" Marie whispered to Pam. They were on the same team. Sookie was on the team that was going after Logan, along with Van Helsing and Queen Helen.

"He's blocking me," Pam whispered back. "He hasn't done that before."

"He's trying to protect you from what he's feeling," Sibylla murmured. Her voice was hoarse with murderous rage. This wasn't the controlled queen they all knew. She was all vampire now; cold, shrewd, calculating and vengeful.

"Damn him," Pam muttered. "When will he understand that I can handle it?"

"Jus' as well I still got me compass," said Jack, who, as it turned out, was one hell of a chameleon even though he was not actually a metamorph. He'd shaved off his plaited beard and trimmed his dreadlocks —after he was promised a potion that would help him to grow it all back in no time— and then donned some thick-rimmed glasses. He offered it to Pam, who snatched it without a single word of thanks. This momentarily made his grin fade, but then he shrugged off her rudeness as if he encountered such behaviour every day. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the calmest, although Marie had no idea how he could be so calm. Here they were, in an underground maze, surrounded by enemies that outnumbered them at least one to twenty.

—

Eric sensed that his child was near. What was she doing here? Had they captured her too? A million scenarios ran through his head. He tried to sense her more clearly, although the silver was proving to be an obstacle. Pam was excited, a little bit nervous, and very angry. Actually, angry would be too mild a word to describe what she was feeling at the moment. She wasn't on her own.

He wished he could be of a little more help to them, but he'd been half drained and strapped down with silver. His blood would sell for a good price, and the Fellowship needed the money to fund their currently illegal activities. Of course, if the fanatics ever seized control of the government, all this would become legal.

They'd blinded him and taken his fangs, leaving him with nothing save for his life. He would eventually heal, but that would require the removal of the silver that had been inserted into his wounds. There was no limit to the sadistic imaginations of humans. To be brutally honest, vampires could never be crueller than humans or any more creative when it came to thinking up ways of inflicting pain upon others.

Marie was reaching out with her end of the bond. Although the link between her and himself was weak, and very unbalanced, her power meant that she'd absorbed more of him than a regular human would. He could feel her probing at it, trying to find him. But he couldn't let her share his pain.

Pam was also probing at the bond between them for all she was worth. His child was much more experienced with this kind of thing and their bond was much stronger. She was also particularly persistent. He felt her drawing closer and closer. And then they were just outside. He heard them whispering. Well, arguing.

"Jack, what do you mean we don't have the keys?"

"I don't have me rum! You can't expect me to function at full capacity when I ain't got me rum!"

Fucking lawyer.

—

Logan could honestly say that he hadn't known anything as bad as this. Well, if he'd been in a worse situation, he sure as hell couldn't remember it. Maybe except that time when he first tried out his claws, except that memory was rather blurry. He was weak from hunger and the electric shocks. His 'cured' body had been pushed to its limits. The wounds in his hands weren't healing. The burns weren't healing. He was dizzy and nauseous. Maybe this was how normal people felt when they were sick. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else other than how uncomfortable he felt. He willed himself to heal and to recover. There was nothing else he wanted more. He had to get out; that was all he knew. He had to get both himself and Northman out, and all the other vampires and mutants that might be stuck in this place. He wasn't just going to give up. He was the Wolverine, for fuck's sake!

He opened his eyes when he heard the lock of his cell door click. Maybe Newlin was coming back to…do whatever it was he liked to do with his prisoners. The man was a sadistic bastard who served a petty sadistic and non-existent god.

"Logan? Jesus Christ! What did they do to you?"

Sookie Stackhouse was a welcome sight for sore eyes indeed. Well, she was a welcome sight for the eyes of a very sore man. That would be a more accurate way of putting it. She wasn't alone. Queen Helen was with her, and Van Helsing too. Logan had never been happier to see other people, although he hated to let them see him so weak. It was pathetic. Here he was, the indestructible man, and he'd been subdued by a bunch of morons with hypodermic needles.

"Come on," said Van Helsing as he broke the metal cuffs that held Logan down. "Let's get you out of here." He slung Logan's arm around his shoulders and hoisted the Wolverine to his feet. In his weakened state, Logan suddenly noticed something about Van Helsing that was making him feel physically better, as if the monster hunter was feeding him strength. The wounds between his knuckles stopped bleeding. Slowly —more slowly than usual— the skin and flesh knitted back together. Then the pace of his healing increased. His mutation was back, and he'd never been so grateful for it in his life. But how had it come back so quickly and suddenly?

"What did you do?" he asked Van Helsing.

"Me? I did nothing," said Van Helsing. "It was you."

Him? What did he do? He really wanted to know.

However, there was no time for question. When they'd brought him in, he'd heard the moans and whimpers of other mutants and vampires. They had to be freed. Although, he had to say he had doubts about freeing hurt and ravenous vampires. That was a highly dangerous thing to do. Still, he couldn't just leave them to die here. They didn't deserve it. No one deserved it. Well, perhaps with the exception of people like William Stryker and Steve Newlin.

"This way," he said. He roughly remembered the turns that they'd taken, even though he'd only been semi-conscious and in a lot of pain. It was his duty to free the others now that he himself was free. He broke into a run. The others could follow him, although he could do with a shield. He didn't want to be 'cured' again.

—

He heard the hitch in Marie's breath when she took in the sight of him. He wished she didn't have to see him like this. He was supposed to be strong. He knew she was trying not to cry. Oh, he hoped that she wouldn't cry. He couldn't stand weeping. It always made him feel so helpless and confused. She must have known how much he didn't like it when people wept, because she managed to hold it in. There was fury in her pain, also. She would kill for him. They both knew it.

"Eric," she whispered. "We're gonna get you out. I promise." He heard her fiddling with the chains strapping him to the wall spread-eagle, like a vampire target. What was she going to do without the keys? In fact, how had they gotten in without keys? He remembered hearing a muffled explosion. They could probably blow the lock of the door apart, but surely they wouldn't think of doing such a thing with his manacles, would they? It was too stupid, even for Sparrow.

"I need more hairpins," said Marie. His woman was a fully-fledged little criminal. He was proud of her.

"I will kill them," Pam swore as the manacles opened with a click. She meant it.

There was pain, and then great relief_,_ as the silver was removed from his eyes and mouth. He heard it ring as it hit the metal floor, which was also coated with silver. As if a vampire could actually dig through a foot of stainless steel and then fifteen feet of concrete. They were strong, but not that strong.

The sirens suddenly began wailing. They undid the last of the silver chains that bound the Viking to the wall. His entire back had been seared by the silver, and he couldn't help but groan as burned skin came away when he fell to his knees. He hated being so weak and helpless. He would much rather be the one doing the rescuing rather than the one being rescued. A man had his pride.

Pam caught him before he could fall flat on his face. His hand came into contact with her face and came away wet with her bloody tears. "Come now," he chided gently. "You know I love you more when you're cold and heartless."

He smelled other blood on her. Human blood. "You need to drink, Eric," said Pam. That was true, but being fed by his own child? That was humiliating, to say the least. But his fangs were gone. What could he do? He let Pam pour blood from the corpses of his guards down his throat. He felt better, but only slightly. He would need more blood, and it would have to be blood from a living body.

"Helen knows where we are," said Theodora. "We have to hurry."

"I knew that," said Sparrow. "You don't look so good, Your Nibs."

"Can you two please stop pointing out the obvious?" snapped Marie. "You're being worse than useless. Bill, come and give us a hand." Bill Compton was here? Well, that was just fucking brilliant, wasn't it?

No, he wasn't being at all rational, because they needed all the help they could get, but the last person he wanted to see him in this state was Compton.

—

The lights were flashing. The floors of the corridors were of vinyl instead of silver. Even the Fellowship of the Sun, what with all their blood-smuggling, could not afford to buy that much silver. He saw the cages. They were so small that a taller man would not be able to stretch out to his full length. The wretchedness he saw in those cages made him want to kill someone. There were kids in there. Mutant kids who most likely had run away from home because their families couldn't accept what they were. It was a tragic but common story.

Then there were the vampires. In their silver cages, they couldn't do anything, and most of them had been drained almost to the point of final death. Even worse was the fact that the whole place was so crowded that sometimes mutants had been thrown in with the vampires. Half of the cages had dead bodies in them, or else they had goop. There were even a few weres. Out came the claws. He cut through the bars of all the cages. Doors swung open as vampires, mutants and weres all rushed out.

In retrospect, it hadn't been such a good idea to free them all at once.

Everything was in an uproar. The freed vampires began a feeding frenzy, and they would have killed just about every human, were and mutant if not for Helen. Somehow, she managed to control them, or at least stop them from killing everything in sight.

The sharp wails of the sirens had finally alerted the soldiers, but even they couldn't take down the wall of supernaturals that rushed at them. The scientists, of course, were next to defenceless. Humans were screaming. The soldiers were trying to contain the situation, but they couldn't even take aim. The freed vampires rushed at them. Most of them had lost their fangs, and it was not pretty to watch them tear apart humans with their bare hands and then lap their blood off the floor.

—

He smelled the blood. It was sweet, and he thirsted for it. He was barely controlling himself. Marie smelled so sweet. Even Jack smelled sweet, if alcoholic. He might have been weakened, but he was more than capable of overpowering a human or two.

"Soon, Eric," muttered Sibylla. "Soon."

As if on cue, he heard the nephilim's roar, followed by the Archangel's cursing. And then a surprised exclamation from the nephilim. "Hey, I'm all right!" he said.

"Great!" said Sookie. "Coz I'm not!"

—

For most mutants, an overdose of the Cure was life endangering. For the Wolverine, however, he seemed to have developed some sort of immunity. The second time the Cure was injected into him, he felt...nothing. Well, there was a tiny sting, as if someone had poked him with a safety pin, but that was it.

"Logan!" That was Marie's voice. What the fuck—oh, yes. Northman. Of course she would come for Northman. And himself, of course, but she couldn't be everywhere all at once. "Duck!" Okay, that was a weird greeting. He did as she asked. Split seconds later, a bullet flew over his head and struck the soldier behind him. Attagirl. She'd always been his best student when it came to marksmanship.

Somehow, his timid little protégée was acting as the vanguard for her team. Poor Sparrow was a most reluctant rearguard, and in the middle were Pam and Sibylla supporting a seriously injured vampire between them. It took a while for Logan to realize that it was Northman.

"You look like shit, bub," he told the Viking when the two teams rejoined.

"Thanks," said Northman hoarsely. Logan sighed. He didn't like being a blood donor, but it wouldn't be right not to help an ally, especially when he could help. Knowing that the fanatics had most likely taken Northman's fangs —that had to have grated on the vampire's pride— he cut his wrist with a claw and held the wound up to the vampire. Northman shook his head.

"I'm offering," Logan growled. "Don't make me waste it."

"It's fine," said Van Helsing.

At the monster hunter's word, the vampire latched onto the wound and took a long draught. He coughed as Logan's blood went down his throat, and then he made himself take another sip before the wound closed entirely. It was really the oddest thing. Firstly, the Viking hadn't objected that other time when Logan had offered him his blood. Secondly, why would he care so much about what Van Helsing thought? Northman must know something about Van Helsing that no one else did.

And, considering the vampire now owed him, he was going to make Northman tell him what exactly it was about Van Helsing that made him so human and inhuman at the same time.

—

All the exits were blocked, save for one; the hangar, where Steve Newlin kept his private plane and also his army's three jets. Unlike the rest of the base, the hangar was above ground and situated in the middle of the grounds of one of the Fellowship's churches. It was easy enough to find the hangar. All one had to do was head up, up and up. It was getting out through the hangar that was going to be a problem.

With the planes being such valuable assets, Newlin had stationed a lot of men in the hangar. There were at least a hundred heavily armed men there, and these weren't boys. These guys looked professional. Marie swallowed. There was nothing for it. All the other exits had been locked down. Newlin planned to trap them here, in the strongest point of his base. She glanced at her watch. It was eleven at night. There were six more hours until the vampires would burn to a crisp if Newlin chose to open all the windows and doors, which he most definitely would.

"What's the plan?" she heard Logan whisper.

"We get a plane and we fly away," Mystique whispered back.

"I hate flying," grumbled the Wolverine.

The soldiers were prepared for them when they burst into the hangar. Helen aimed for those with the really big guns and took them out within seconds. Bullets flew in every direction. They scraped the sides of the planes and then ricocheted off the metal plates that covered the aircraft, sending sparks flying into the air.

Marie fired back and tried not to think about what she was doing. This was life, this was death, this was survival. She had no choice. If she put down her weapon, she would die, and the people she loved along with her. Maybe it was selfish, but she would do anything to keep them alive. In the end, they mattered a lot more to her than these faceless, nameless Soldiers of the Sun who would not think twice about killing her or her friends.

The soldiers had cure darts as well. Eric pushed her down as one came straight at her. It barely missed her. Others were not so fortunate. "Ow!" cried Jack, who was not a mutant and therefore could not be 'cured'.

One of the darts struck Mystique in the shoulder. She fell to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth as her skin turned from blue to a normal pale beige, and her hair became dark brown. Her veins showed up starkly beneath her translucent waxy skin, like a lattice that was slowly strangling her. "No!" shouted Logan. He picked up her shaking naked form in his arms. She was barely lucid.

"Cold," she whispered. "Cold."

"It's okay," Logan said. "Shh…it's all right. I've got ya." It wasn't all right. They had no way out without a pilot. Unless…

The soldiers had been distracted when Mystique had fallen. "Brace me," Marie said to Eric. Then she pulled the trigger and held it down. She hadn't worked with such heavy weaponry before, but if Sookie could randomly fire a machine gun without any training at all, then so could she. She just had to make sure that the gun wouldn't fly up high enough to smack her in the face.

She screamed as short bursts of fire and ammunition flew out from the muzzle of the gun, sending soldiers diving from cover. She didn't know what she was aiming at. She didn't care. She just needed to distract them long enough for the mutants and vampires —and Jack Sparrow— to get into one of the planes.

Her magazine was emptied, and she didn't have any spares. Eric seemed to know what she was doing. He picked her up and carried her over to the nearest plane with vampire speed. He wasn't as fast as he usually was, as he was still healing, but he was fast enough. The others were right on his heels. Theodora had teleported along with Logan and the severely ill Mystique.

"Do you have any idea how to fly this thing?" asked Pam once they were all onboard. Marie started the plane's engine.

"Maybe," said the mutant. "I don't know. Just put your seatbelts on, 'kay?"

—

**A/N: **Long chapter to make up for a long delay. Please don't kill me. *ducks*


	44. I've Got a Jar of Dirt!

**Survival of the Fallen**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 44: I've Got a Jar of Dirt! **

Sookie heard a woman screaming. It took her a while for her to realize that she was hearing herself. The plane spun through the air, dropping and rising like some rollercoaster ride in Disneyland, not that she'd been to Disneyland. "How many lessons have you had?" she screamed at her cousin.

"Four!" came the reply. "And that's not counting the flight simulation sessions! Don't worry, Sook. I don't think I'll crash the plane!"

Brilliant. They were all going to get killed. What had possessed the girl and convinced her that she could fly a plane?

However, they were still alive, so perhaps Marie's decision was justified. Just slightly. The telepath's shields were going haywire. She was barely containing her fear —and her stomach contents. She found herself slipping into just about everyone's thoughts. Logan was terrified. He hated flying at best and this was hell for him. Oh, good; she wasn't the only one who didn't think that her cousin was a passable pilot. Marie was experiencing an adrenaline rush, and Jack was wondering if she would consent to becoming his first mate if he ever got his ship back — he'd spent the past two centuries trying to reclaim the vessel, with no success whatsoever.

She even found herself catching snatches of vampire mental activity. Pam was very worried that they were all going to die here, Bill felt nauseous for the first time in one hundred and fifty years, and Eric was thinking about how sexy—nope; not going there.

Through some miracle —did Gabriel have anything to do with it?— Marie did not crash the plane. Well, not in that sense, anyway. The plane did a 'controlled plummet' into the Everglades, as Marie later called it. She was beginning to get very good at euphemisms. The plane landed belly-first in the waist deep water, startling sleeping water birds and alligators.

The water was tepid and still. Sookie tried not to think about what could be living in it. Leeches freaked her out even though they shared the same diet as vampires, and she was okay with vampires most of the time. "Where are we gonna go?" she asked as they climbed out of the plane wreck.

"Somewhere where we can hide," said Pam unhelpfully.

"Palm Beach," said Jack. "I have a house there."

—

He couldn't believe that they got through all his defences and managed to escape. It was beyond belief. Then again, they were agents of Satan, and Satan had gotten away time and time again. Steve Newlin was determined to make it only a temporary escape. He had friends in high places who could help. The entire government of the United States was on his side now, save for a few pesky liberals who could easily be done away with. They actually believed that these demons were equals to the children of God! What rubbish. Then again, they also believed that a monkey turned into a man. And then there were those feminists who went against their God-given roles.

Newlin scrolled down his list of contacts until he found the right number. Let the demons try and deal with the wrath of God and his soldiers.

"Langley," said the voice on the other end.

"John, it's Steve," said Newlin. "Do you remember Stryker's project with Weapon XI?"

"Of course."

"I think I know where Weapon X is."

—

Gabriel managed to retrieve his hummer. By then, dawn was quickly approaching. All the vampires, except Helen, who would not be burned by the sun, crammed themselves into the back of the vehicle to take shelter under the tarpaulin. It was a tight fit, especially with Eric being such a large man, but vampires were very flexible creatures and they managed to make it work. Sookie caught a quick glimpse of Pam's thoughts. She was not happy at the prospect of having skin contact with Bill, although her thoughts about Sibylla were—no, not going there. Were vampire thoughts ever PG-13?

The telepath tried to make herself comfortable so that she could snatch a few winks on the way to Palm Beach, although that was next to impossible, what with the tight space and her wet clothes. She glanced at her cousin, who was curled into a tight ball and trying not to touch anyone, even in her sleep. Logan must have exhausted himself because he was already snoring softly. Funny. She'd never actually noticed that he snored. Then again, she hadn't spent a lot of time watching him sleep.

His finely honed instincts must have alerted him to the fact that she was watching him, because he suddenly opened his eyes. "You should get some sleep while you can, Sookie," he muttered.

"I'm tryin'," she whispered, knowing full well that he could hear her.

"Come here," he said, beckoning to her. "It'll be better if you stretch yourself out. I don't mind."

Jack snorted in his dreams and muttered something about someone burning all the food, the shade and the rum. In his arms, he cradled an empty liquor bottle. "But why's the rum gone?" he murmured, sounding rather perplexed.

Suddenly, Sookie felt a little shy, but there was no reason for her to refuse. Logan was just being himself. He was a practical survivor with a lot of heart, and he only had her comfort in mind. She lay down on her side and used his lap as a pillow. He was warm; so warm. She wondered what it would be like to be with someone who had body heat. The only time she'd even had a hint of what that felt like was when she'd danced with Alcide in Josephine's, but she hadn't kissed Alcide. She'd kissed Logan, and it had been nice. More than nice.

He draped his arm protectively over her, not even aware that he was doing it. It was just his nature to be protective, she guessed. His presence comforted her, and she found herself being lulled to sleep by his snores.

—

Jack's house was a secluded property on the very edge of town. It was, however, only five minutes drive to the pub. How Jack even qualified for a driver's licence was beyond Sookie's understanding. He was never sober enough to drive.

The outside of his house looked like a typical rich Californian house, with white stucco walls, tidy-looking balconies and a cheesy welcome mat. The interior was outrageous. He had burnt orange features walls in rooms that were painted red. There were shrunken heads and painted skulls in glass display cabinets. Along one wall in his study was an entire shelf filled with rum bottles dating back to the seventeen hundreds. In another display case was a collection of coins from all over the world -almost all of them had been stolen by Jack throughout his long life.

His certificate from his internet law degree hung proudly above the mantelpiece in his living room. It was all so very 'Jack'.

"Make yerselves at home," he said, "but don't touch me hats, and not the rum either."

"I don't suppose you have any blood," drawled Pam, who was still regarding Eric with much worry.

"I got frozen blood packets in me freezer, luv," said Jack. "Just in case pretty ladies like you decided to visit. Jus' help yerself."

Pam grabbed a handful of those packets and stuck them in the microwave. "It's not your blood, is it?" she asked.

"Nope," said Jack. "I stole it from the hospital."

"You are such a lovely person, Captain Sparrow," said Sookie.

"I am, am I not?"

"Cut the crap," growled Logan. He cradled Mystique in his arms. Her skin was clammy and cold. "Where's the bedroom?"

"You ain't me typ—guest bedroom's on the second floor, first door in the right."

Before Jack had even finished enunciating the last syllable, Logan had climbed up the stairs, taking three of them at a time.

—

Mystique's condition had only worsened. No one knew what to do. They couldn't take her to the hospital; that would be a sure fire way to get caught. Her skin was so cold, as if the 'cure' had leeched all the warmth from her body. They needed help. Very specific help.

He remembered how Van Helsing had somehow made Sookie better after her near death at Compton's hands. Logan didn't believe in faith healing, but whatever he'd done, it had worked.

"Can't you do something?" he demanded of the monster hunter. "You can save her, can't you?"

"Do you believe that I can save her?" asked Van Helsing.

"I don't believe in this faith healin' stuff, but I believe what I saw last time," said Logan. "I believe you can do it again." He felt so helpless, sitting here, unable to do anything for her. She'd been under his protection. She would never have agreed with him, but everyone at the school was under the Wolverine's protection.

"You are placing a lot of trust in something you don't believe," says Van Helsing as he sits down on the edge of Mystique's sickbed.

"I'll try whatever I can," replied the Wolverine. "Would you do it?"

"I think you should do it," said the hunter.

—

'Raven.' The mists were calling to her. If she looked closely at them, she thought she could see forms taking shape; ghostly faces of people she'd known and people she'd killed. They wanted her to join them.

"Mystique," said another voice.

"Logan?" she whispered. Why was he here? How was he here? She thought she was dead. Surely he couldn't be dead, could he?

"I…uh…came to get you," said Logan. "Van Helsing said it would work. I'm not sure what's going on either."

"You're glowing," she said to him.

"I'm fluorescent? Oh great. Next I'll have a fucking halo!"

—

Sighs of relief sounded around the room when Mystique's eyes opened. She was still human. There was no sign of her powers returning, but at least she was alive and past the danger stage. "Hey," said Logan.

"Hey," she whispered back. "You don't have a halo."

"That's good to know," said Logan with a snort. "How are you feelin'?"

Even in her state, Mystique was still capable of giving him a look that conveyed exactly what she thought of his question. To put it in more detail, she didn't think very highly of it at all.

"Right," said Logan. "That was a stupid thing to ask. You get some rest, 'kay? I'm gonna call Chuck to tell 'im that we're okay, and maybe he'll have news of the others."

As he closed the door softly behind him, he became aware of someone watching him. With a snarl, he whipped around, only to find that it was Van Helsing. "What the fuck?" hissed Logan. "What did you make me do in there?"

"I didn't make you do anything," said the hunter. "I merely helped you to discover a previously unknown skill set."

"Yeah, right," said Logan. "Start talking."

"There are things that you have to figure out for yourself," said Van Helsing. "Stop underestimating who you are and what you are, Logan." With that, he wandered back downstairs, leaving Logan to puzzle over what he could possibly have meant. The Wolverine shook his head. He hated puzzles. He went to call Chuck.

—

Eric licked the two wounds on her neck closed. Marie clung onto him as if he would melt away if she ever let go. She had to convince herself —twice— that she was not dreaming. He really was back. He breathed in her scent deeply as he held her. Their naked limbs were entwined and the sheets —four hundred count Egyptian cotton— were twisted around them, binding them further together.

"I was so afraid," she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if…"

"Shhh," he murmured into her hair. "Don't think about it."

"Promise me it won't happen again," she said. It was a stupid thing to say. How could he promise her anything if it was completely out of his control? He hadn't asked to be kidnapped and tortured. The reality of their lives was that they had very little control over what would happen to them, and at any moment, their lives could be threatened or ended. It made every moment they had all the more precious.

"I don't make promises that I can't keep," he said. "You know that."

"I know," she said. He kissed her then, long and deep. Her fingernails raked down his back, drawing blood. He growled in a way that made her hairs stand in a most delicious manner, as if electricity was shooting down from the top of her head to her centre. She pressed her mouth against him insistently, drawing him in as much as she could. She never wanted to let him go. Not ever.

He teased her incessantly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge each time until they both climaxed together. Her face was wet with tears and she didn't even know what she was crying about. The emotions she could feel —both his and hers— were so intense that she could almost grasp them in her hands. There was pain in pleasure and pleasure in pain. Pain, because they feared loss, and pleasure because they had to have something in the first place in order to be able to lose it.

Afterwards, she lay against him, placing her head over where his heart was. It was silent, of course, but she'd grown accustomed to it. This was just a technicality. Essentially, the lack of a beating heart made no difference. It didn't matter to her that he was cold and did not breathe. Sometimes she wished they would be able to walk in the sun together, but then, if Eric hadn't been a vampire, they would never have met, and even if they had, her powers would have been an insurmountable obstacle. Someone up there had intended for them to find one another, even though space and time ought to have stood between them. He was hers. It was that simple.

"I love you, you know," she murmured.

"Marie…" he whispered. Eric was still uncomfortable with the idea of being able to feel. Emotions, to him, were liabilities. He'd put his own emotions away for so long that he no longer knew how to deal with them. She suspected that he had never been too good with dealing with them either way back when he'd been human.

She glanced up at him. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," she said. "I just wanted you to know. Considering what sort of lives we're leading now, it's possible that we could die any moment. It feels wrong to leave it unsaid, just in case I don't get the chance again."

He tightened his grip on her. "I would die fighting before I let anything happen to you," he said hoarsely. She felt his possessive protectiveness and tender concern coming through their skin contact. He was still surprised by how he felt, even after all these months. They could work on the 'L' word later. After all, love was a lot more than just a word.

—

There was no one at the school. Logan wasn't as surprised as he felt he ought to be. After all, all non-humans were in danger and Chuck wasn't going to endanger the kids. He had a feeling that their parents wouldn't care. Some parents weren't aware that their children were mutants. Others had simply abandoned them when they found out. There were a couple of parents who did care for their mutant kids, but they'd taken their kids home —or moved overseas with their kids— ever since the mutant registration act had been passed. However, they wouldn't be safe for long. Governments all over the world were passing similar bills.

"I am not running anymore," said Eric.

"What?" said Bill. "Eric, be reasonable."

"Where can we run to, Bill?" demanded the Viking. "At some point, someone has to make a stand."

"He's right," said Logan.

"I agree," said Sibylla. "We have to make a stand, but where? There's a time and place for everything, and this is most definitely not the place. It would be impossible to set up a base camp here."

"I'd suggest settin' up base in Sicily, but I guess you ain't runnin' that far," said Jack.

"I truly do admire your powers of understanding, Mr Sparrow," said Eric.

"_Captain_. It's Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Washington DC would be my choice," said Van Helsing.

"Bub, you're crazy," said Logan. "That's where the White House is and the Pentagon is right next to it."

"It also has a network of abandoned sewers," said Van Helsing. "No one will think to look for us there, Logan. The closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm."

"You plagiarized that from that hobbit in those long movies."

"I rather like the _Lord of the Rings_."

"Well, Eric," said Sookie, "whatever you decide, you'd better decide it quick, because those nutjobs have found us and they're thinking about something to do with weapon X—what's weapon X?"

"I dunno, and I don't care," said Logan as he leapt to his feet. That was what he was saying, at any rate. He should know better than to try and hide the truth from a telepath, of all people, but the truth was, he didn't know what the truth was, only that he should know about Weapon X. It rang a bell. It wasn't a very loud bell; more like one of those little ones that people liked to put on the collars of tiny dogs than the ones that hung in church towers and needed three men to ring them.

They hightailed out of there. Jack only just managed to empty his safe before they had to go. They took another car. Like most men, the pirate-lawyer had a thing for fast vehicles and owned everything from a hearse to a Mustang. They took the armoured SUV with the light-proof back.

"Careful!" screeched Jack as he was shoved into the back of Van Helsing's hummer. Eric had taken his car. "Don't touch me dirt!"

"Dirt?" said Sookie.

Jack opened the burlap sack he'd taken from his safe to show Sookie the contents. Inside was a lot of antique jewellery —probably all old pirate loot— and a jar of dirt. Literally. "One should always have a jar o' dirt handy, savvy?"

Okay…whatever. Sparrow had always had something wrong with his head. Logan had known that for a long time. "You okay?" he asked Mystique. He was sorry that he'd had to wake her. She still looked so pale.

"I'll be much better once we're out of this hellhole," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, that's me house you're talkin' about!"

The house was engulfed in a bloom of flames just as they pulled away. "I spent one and a half million on that house," the pirate said sadly as he watched it burn up.

"Dollars?" asked Logan.

"Pounds," said Sparrow. "Once an Englishman, always an Englishman, mate." He sighed. "That's one and a half million pounds without the cars. Do you know how much I paid for that hearse?"

"Why do you even have a hearse?" asked Sookie.

"Everybody dies, luv. I jus' thought I'd be ready fer me funeral. I want a gold sarcophagus, if anyone's interested, and a jade death mask with yellow diamonds for eyes. And ruby hair beads and—is no one listenin'?" Sparrow might be crazy, but his optimism was admirable. Logan doubted he'd be that cheerful if someone blew up his one and a half million pound mansion.

"I'm listenin'," said Sookie. "I just ain't gonna say anything to it."

"Jack, you can think about your funeral and sarcophagus another time because you're not dying tonight," said Van Helsing. "It makes my job so much easier when I have a jet at my disposal."

The familiar high pitched whistling of the X-Jet reached Logan's ears. How on earth did Chuck find them? Never mind. It was Chuck. Chuck could find anyone. Ever since his reincarnation, he seemed to be more powerful than ever. In front of him, Northman had grabbed everyone inside his vehicle and was flying upwards towards the jet. Through the open hatch, the Wolverine glimpsed an unpleasantly familiar face.

"Everyone hold on to me!" he shouted, and he grabbed Sookie before she could ask him why. Sparrow, being the survivalist he was, latched onto Logan's leg. Magneto pulled him up through the skylight of the hummer, along with everyone who was holding onto him. He'd never thought he'd be grateful for his metal skeleton.

They landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor of the jet just as Storm decided to veer off in order to avoid some shells that were coming their way. Logan swore violently as he was thrown against the wall —almost crushing one Remy LeBeau in the process. "How did you get here?" he demanded when he was on the floor again. "And that's my seatbelt, bub!"

—

Poor Logan. Poor poor Logan. Sookie knew how much he hated flying. Heck, anyone who knew him even a little bit knew how much he hated flying. And here he was, in a jet again, with no seatbelt and Ororo was doing aerobatics.

"Is there anyone behind us?" demanded the weather-controlling mutant from the cockpit.

Sookie cast out her thoughts —not an easy thing to do when all she wanted was a barf bag; she'd had quite enough of crazy flying techniques to last her for a lifetime. Between her cousin and Ororo Munroe, they were going to make her as afraid of flying as Logan was. The soldiers below were frustrated, but they were calling for backup in the form of three fighter jets.

Now, Sookie Stackhouse had never been a normal girl and she'd known ever since she'd gotten together with Bill —possibly the _worst_ decision she'd ever made in her life— that she would never have a normal life, but this was too much! She was still a civilian, dammit, and this wasn't Afghanistan! At least, it wasn't supposed to be Afghanistan. She was beginning to wonder if they would be safer in Afghanistan. The Taliban was bad, but at least it didn't have guided missiles. Not yet, anyway.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to make use of my weapons cache!" Sibylla shouted from somewhere near the back as the jet dived to try and lose the two missiles now trailing them. "But they started it!"

"I didn't like it the last time we had to do this and I don't like it now!" hollered Logan. There was a last time? Sookie didn't know about that. Although, she didn't really care at the moment. She clug to her seatbelt and prayed to God that they would make it out of here alive. After all, the Archangel Gabriel was here. That had to count for _something_, right?

"Homo sapiens and their reliance on metal," said Magneto. Oh no. What was he going to do now? Sookie tried to read his thoughts, but she got nothing. Not even the briefest flicker of emotion. Either he was a robot, or he was doing something that blocked her telepathy…somehow. She noticed that he always wore a godawful helmet, and now she was wondering if it wasn't just a sartorial choice.

"Erik!" Charles was shouting. "Don't do this, Erik! They're just following orders!"

"How many times have I said it, Charles? I will not be at the mercy of people following orders ever again."

Since she couldn't see what was going on from this angle, she was simply going to have to look at it from another perspective. She reached inside the mind of one of the fighter pilots. Her name was Megan Thwaites and she had a two year old son. Even though she might have been a bigot who hated anyone who was different and wanted to kill them, Sookie couldn't let a two year old lose his mom. She tried to concentrate on the missile, to try and stop it or make it explode in mid air or something. It was all in her head. If she could move a feather with her mind then she could damn well stop a missile.

However, that was not the case. Her mind was an obstacle to itself. It doubted that she could stop a missile. She was Sookie Stackhouse, a nobody barmaid from the middle of nowhere in Louisiana. She couldn't stop a missile. She couldn't do anything.

Sookie saw Megan's panic as she began to think about how her little boy was going to manage without her. She imagined a thousand scenarios of how her family would take her death. She started to make her peace with God and prayed that her son would understand that she died for a greater cause. It was tragic how misguided she was, and it was tragic that she would never get the chance to see the world another way and change.

And then it was all gone. Her fear, her anger. Nothing. A few bits of fiery debris hit the body of the X-Jet.

"You killed her!" she screamed at Magneto.

"We all make our choices, Miss Stackhouse," said the mutant. "She made hers and I made mine. If I had left her alive, she would have simply gone on to hunt down more mutants and vampires. Sometimes, you have to do a little evil to do a greater good." The mutant gave her a pitying smile, as if he thought her to be naïve and stupid beyond saving. Perhaps she was naïve, and perhaps she was stupid, but at least she wasn't a cold-hearted unfeeling killer.

"Erik, it wasn't necessary," said Charles quietly.

"You never think it necessary to kill, Charles," said Magneto. "And look what's happened. I can't even get satisfaction out of saying 'I told you so'. Humans will do anything to try and stop their inevitable extinction, and they will stop at nothing to kill off the new species."

"I'm not a new species," said Pam. "I'm dead. But, apart from that, I see your point."

Sookie turned to Gabriel. Why hadn't he done anything? Wasn't he supposed to be the protector of mankind and blah blah blah? He must have sensed her confusion, because she soon heard him inside her head. His voice was heavy and…wait…did he sound confused too? Did angels have such things as moral dilemmas?

'_I am limited by my human condition,' _Gabriel told her. _'I suppose I could perform miracles if I wished, and I have done a few times, but what I can do is limited. Against such power, I can do nothing in this form.' _

'_But you saved me!' _she protested. '_Why couldn't you save her too?'_

'_You would have been saved, with or without my help. I just ensured that you would not have to ingest more vampire blood. It was Megan Thwaites' time. I am not here to change such things_.'

"And Mystique?" Sookie demanded, forgetting to keep it inside her head. She was just so confused. Why did some people deserve saving and others didn't?

"What about me?" asked the still-human Mystique.

"I didn't save her," said Gabriel.

"Well, someone obviously did," said Logan.

"Yeah," said Gabriel. "You."

"I'm still wondering how you did that," Mystique said to Logan.

"I'm wondering about it myself," said Logan. He turned to Gabriel. "You did something."

"Like I said, Logan," said Gabriel. "It was you."

"What exactly did Logan do?" asked Sookie.

"I was in the dark, I saw him, he asked me to follow him and so I did," said Mystique slowly. "The next thing I know, I was awake and _human_." She said the last word as if it were an insult.

That sounded all too eerily like Sookie's own near death experience, except with the messenger replaced. How could Logan have done that? Gabriel was the Archangel so no surprise there, but the Wolverine as miracle worker? He could do some quite miraculous things, she'd give him that, but he was hardly the bring people back from almost death kind of guy, except…

The telepath glanced at her cousin. Logan _had_ brought someone else back from almost death, except there was an explanation there for it. Here, there was no explanation, but…

She looked at the confused Logan and then to the troubled Gabriel. They had the same face, their voices sounded the same and they even liked the same cigars. And now, they were exhibiting similar abilities except Gabriel didn't have claws. Was it possible that…

Nephilim. Eric and the others sometimes called Logan the nephilim. She'd looked up the word once out of curiosity, and it had meant half-angel or fallen angel. She'd assumed it was a joke but now, she wasn't so sure.

"Will someone tell me what's really going on here?" asked Logan. "I'm in the middle of it and I have no idea what it is!"

"Wolverine, I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but this ain't the best time to be airin' dirty little family secrets, savvy?" said Jack, conveniently exposing most of the secret himself. He must be overly sober. An intoxicated Jack would never do anything so stupid.

"Family secret?" asked Logan. "Are you tryin' to say that him and me, we're _family_? …and you all knew but you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't our secret to tell," said Helen quietly.

"Oh, so _you_ knew as well."

"I didn't know," said Marie.

"Thanks, kid," said Logan. "At least I know one person is being totally honest with me."

"I have no idea either," said Magneto, "but even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Can someone just say it out loud?" said Mystique. "I'm getting bored with all this soap opera-esque drama. Who is Van Helsing to the Wolverine?"

Who indeed? Sookie wondered if Gabriel had a twin. But if he did, wouldn't the twin also be in the Bible? No one had mentioned foul-mouthed, cigar smoking, smouldering hot angels who could kiss like the devil! If they had, she might not have fallen asleep in church. Oops. Perhaps it was not the best idea to think such things in the presence of an archangel.

"He needs to know, Gabriel," said Helen.

"Who am I, really?" whispered Logan.

"Logan, you're my son," said Gabriel.

There was silence in the jet as Logan tried to absorb the information and the rest of them tried to not look at him. Finally, Jack generously handed Logan a bottle of rum.

"Drink up, mate," said the pirate. "Things always look rosier after a drink of the alcoholic sort."

—

His father. Gabriel Van Helsing was his father? He certainly hadn't expected that. Hell, he hadn't even thought about having a father, although in retrospect, he wondered why he hadn't. He'd thought about girlfriends and wives and even children, but he supposed he'd never seen himself as a child. He couldn't imagine it.

And if Van Helsing was his father, then it meant he definitely wasn't human, despite what he was always saying. So, in essence, his dad had been lying to him ever since they'd first met. Or, rather, re-met.

"You'd better explain, bub," said Logan.

"Do I need to draw you a diagram?" asked Gabriel.

"I know all about that part," Logan growled, "but what are you, and don't tell me you're human coz you can't be if you really are my dad."

"I am human, biologically speaking," said Gabriel. "In truth, I don't think you will believe me even if I tell you."

"Try me," said Logan. "I've allied myself with vampires and I've brought someone back from almost death. I think I can handle a bit more weirdness."

Sookie held her breath. Would Gabriel tell Logan? Her own head was still reeling from the revelation. Logan was half angel. _Logan_ was half angel. Logan was half _angel_. She'd kissed an angel. On the lips. It hadn't felt particularly angelic. Then again, Gabriel had to have done some decidedly un-angelic things to produce Logan.

"I am the angel Gabriel, Logan," said Van Helsing.

"I ain't that thick, bub. There ain't such things as angels!"

—

**Part II**

Unlike the rest of the country, there was no uproar in Washington DC. Under the cold light of the street lamps, everything looked like a scene out of a dystopic black and white movie. On every corner, there were armed soldiers carrying menacing machine guns, but otherwise, it was as if nothing was wrong in the capital city of this country that was quickly sliding into all out civil war.

People bowed their heads against the chilly wind as they hurried back to the safety of their apartments. No one looked at each other. It was if they didn't want to be seen. In such a situation, it was very understandable. To be noticed was not a good thing during this time.

Marie shivered and rubbed her arms. She'd become to accustomed to the balmy weather of Louisiana and it took a while to adjust to the cold. Eric pulled her closer; it was a leftover human instinct on his part. However, he had no body warmth to share, and if he gave her his coat, people would start wondering about the man who could stand to go about in jeans and a t-shirt in this sort of weather.

Gabriel took them around the back of an abandoned factory and lifted the cover off a manhole. It was completely dark down there. Eric went down first. Marie, of course, went with him. It would save him from having to fly back up to fetch her, at least. The pale concentric circles of light revealed dark stains and growths of organisms whose names she couldn't even begin to pronounce. She guessed that no one had been down here for a long time. There were a few stray rusted rungs from a service ladder still sticking out of the concrete, but she wouldn't trust them to hold a bat, let alone the weight of a fully grown human.

It seemed to take an age, but finally, they stopped descending. Marie found herself looking into a long tunnel. A few rats scuttled out of the way. A tiny stream of rancid water ran down the centre of the floor. It didn't seem like the best place for a base camp.

"Who's there?" asked a voice in the darkness. In an instant, Eric was ready to fight. His fangs glinted in the dim light. Marie trained the flashlight on the face of the speaker. Eric retracted his fangs with a click.

"Chow," he said.

"Sheriff?" asked the incredulous Asian vampire. "My God, we thought…"

"It's king now, Chow," Pam called down from above. "Haven't you heard?"

—

**A/N: **I bet you guys are wondering whether I've suddenly dropped off the face of the planet or something. Life has been very stressful and busy, but at least Gabriel's secret is out now.


	45. The Ring of Our Swords

**Survival of the Fallen**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize.

**Chapter 45: The Ring of Our Swords**

The tunnels were teeming with people; mutants, vampires, weres, and a few human supporters and fangbangers. However, they were far from organized. None of the monarchs had managed to make it to the tunnels yet, and the few sheriffs and packmasters there were uncertain themselves as to what they could do next. The arrival of Queen Helen and Eric had given their morale a boost, but they were too exhausted from running and no one could see a way out. How could they win? Their numbers were few and they had no resources.

Sookie wrapped the dirty blanket around herself more tightly. The tunnels were even colder, and even though fires had been lit, the cold draughts meant that the warm air never hung around. Tents had been set up to provide some form of privacy for the VIPs —she felt very lucky that she was considered to be a VIP— but they weren't very warm either. She felt someone drape a coat over her shoulders and looked up to see Logan. "You were shiverin', Sookie," he said.

"Thanks," she said. His coat smelled like him and it was warm from his body. "But what about you?"

"I'm Canadian," he said. "This is nuthin'." He lit a cigar from the greasy little fire and inhaled deeply before blowing out a stream of smoke. "And I run hot, like those weres."

"How are you holdin' up?" Sookie asked cautiously. The Wolverine had been through a lot in the past few days. It had to affect even someone like him. His body might be almost indestructible, but deep inside, he was as humanly vulnerable as any of them. He didn't like to let people see that, but the telepath knew.

"I'm fine," he said. "Indestructible person, remember?"

"I'm not talking about physically," said the telepath.

Logan made a vague sound. "Don't ask me about what's goin' on inside my head," he said. "I generally don't have a clue."

At that moment, Chow interrupted them. "What?" snapped Logan.

"There are some weres who claim they know Sookie," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Aren't you supposed to let all supes into these tunnels?" asked Logan.

"You haven't smelled these weres," said the Chinese vampire disdainfully. "Wet cats are not my favourite scent."

"You are so immature," said Sookie, rolling her eyes. "Where are they?"

Now, when Chow had said 'weres', Sookie hadn't expected to see her brother included in that number. However, Jason was here, in Washington, in the company of a couple of dozen were-panthers from Hotshot, and he'd changed.

He was no longer the dumb former jock who once ruled at the top of Bon Temps mating chain. Well, he was still a dumb jock and he was still a sex magnet for some females, although Sookie wondered at the intelligence of her own sex when she saw some of the girls fawning over her brother, who still thought Mystique was a super hot alien.

Jason was now a were-panther. In Sookie's absence, he'd become involved with a girl in Hotshot called Crystal, who's brother-cousin —Eric's term— had kidnapped him and bitten him so that he could mate with Crystal to produce panther cubs.

"What?" Sookie almost screeched. Her voice sounded piercing to her ears. She couldn't believe it. Where had she been when her brother had needed her the most? Jason was the only Stackhouse left, and she was supposed to look after him. Yeah, he was older and all, but she'd been given all the smarts and the special powers. She felt responsible for him. "Oh my God, Jason, I'm so sorry!"

"It ain't your fault, Sook," said Jason. Beside him was Crystal. What was he doing with her? "Maybe it's for the best, coz I can help you now." He puffed up his chest proudly and gave Mystique a sideways glance. Well, actually, he had been admiring the cured mutant's generous assets. Mystique wasn't exactly immune to him either. Really, Sookie had thought she was smarter than that. Now she wasn't so sure. Then again, every woman had her weaknesses. The metamorph had a soft spot for bad boys.

Crystal noticed the way he was looking at Mystique and tightened her grip on him. If she'd just been any girl, Sookie would have felt sorry for her. After all, Mystique was smarter and more beautiful. However, considering Crystal collaborated to torture Jason —that was how she saw it— then she really didn't deserve his loyalty.

"Hey, Logan," said Jason. "Do you think I could…uh…maybe join your team? Those uniforms, they're real spiffy."

Oh, Jason. He still really didn't get how serious the situation was. Perhaps that was his blessing. He was easily the happiest person there.

Sam was also with them, and he had a much better grasp of the situation. He, however, was staying quiet. Sookie managed to catch onto a few of his thoughts. Sam was jealous and hating himself for feeling jealous. She'd always known he had feelings for her, but she simply didn't feel that way about him. He was safely in the friend zone and it was going to stay that way.

Over the next few days and nights, more people found their way into the tunnels; vampires, weres, shifters, witches —anyone who didn't fit into the definition of 'human' that was now being touted. There were even a few humans down here. Steve Newlin hated homosexuals as much as he hated vampires and he seemed to be just intent on hunting them down. Above ground, things escalated until they were in a state of martial law.

"We can't feed them all," Logan observed. "And the vampires are gettin' real peckish."

"They got plenty o' that synthetic blood in the hospital," said Jack.

"Jack, you can't steal from a hospital!" said Sookie, appalled at the pirate's lack of morals. Then again, he'd never had any and he'd never been too ashamed to admit it.

"Why not, luv?" asked Jack. "We're still savin' lives, savvy?"

—

Captain Jack Sparrow was back doing what he did best! Now, it might not have been particularly nice and certainly not legal, but stealing blood was hardly the worst thing he'd ever done in his life. In fact, if Jack had to think of the worst thing he had ever done…well, it was probably making the mistake of trusting Barbossa twice. Oh, and letting Lizzie burn all the rum. He could possibly forgive her for chaining him to the ship for the Kraken to chow on —not really— but burning rum was sacrilege.

No one noticed that he was not a hospital orderly. Dressed in mint green scrubs, with a shower cap on his head and pushing a wheelie bin labelled 'hazardous waste' through the hall, he blended right in. It was Saturday night, and the hospital was running on a skeleton staff. Much of the health budget had been cut to fund this second holocaust, and all the staff who were there were too tired to think about anything except surviving long enough for their shift to end.

Jack wheeled the gurney through the corridors until he came to the temperature controlled room where all the blood —real and synthetic— was being stored. Earlier, he'd swiped a key card from a doctor, and a quick trick with his phone allowed him to crack the four digit pin.

He began to load blood into the bin, box by box. The only issue was keeping it cool, but that was why Popsicle was waiting outside. The mutant boy was better than an ice box.

"No one saw you, did they?" whispered the boy when Jack emerged from one of the hospital's back doors.

"Nope, or else the alarms would have gone off," said Jack. "'ere, load these into the car."

It wasn't just any car. It was a police car, with the tracking device disabled. Again, illegal means had been used to obtain the vehicle but Jack believed they were justified. They even had the fake badges and IDs to go along with it. It helped when you had a metal mangling mutant and a few expert forgers on your side. The pirate stripped off the scrubs to reveal the police uniform beneath it.

"Y'know what, runt?" he said. "Take a detour. I like the look of that internet café over there."

"You have no right to call me a runt, Sparrow," said Popsicle with narrowed eyes. "You're my height."

—

Elizabeth Swann Turner had been waiting patiently for the opportune moment. Now was the opportune moment. She clicked on the email that had just arrived in her inbox, from one certain Captain Jack Sparrow. She hadn't heard from him directly in months. Usually, he didn't contact her unless he really needed a favour. Barbossa would sometimes give her little titbits but mostly, no one knew what Jack got up to. The last she'd heard, he'd gotten himself a law degree and perfected the art of talking in confusing, never-ending concentric circles.

It hardly surprised her to learn that Jack had gotten himself involved with vampire business. It was hard to avoid the undead these days, when one happened to be a supernatural being. They were, after all, rich clients who were more than happy to pay extra in order to have their affairs kept secret. Why, she'd been shipping Uranium for a certain 'Sicilian' for a while.

Elizabeth was a pragmatist, and she was not fond of the law. Some laws existed for a good reason; others, not so much. Her pragmatism had helped her to set up a successful shipping company with a large and mostly unknown client base all over the world. Her position as Pirate King had helped. Every pirate on the seas had to obey her command, even if they hadn't sworn allegiance to her. By committing their very first acts of piracy, they had made themselves her subjects, bound by magic that she could not explain. Therefore, not a single ship of Swann-Turner Enterprises had ever had problems with pirates.

This made her wealthy, and wealth, in turn, gave power. It also helped that her husband pretty much ruled the oceans. Jack, of course, used their positions to his best advantage.

_Dear Elizabeth, _the email began.

'_What have you been doing?' As you might have heard, I'm between jobs right now. Searching for jobs has been hard. Heard you might be hiring? I need a favour. Now that the economy's going to pot, I'll do anything I can get. Gotta feed the kids somehow, y'know? Telling the kids that they have to go hungry because daddy ain't got a job is the most terrible thing a man has to do. Our house is gone. Next week, we'll be selling the car. _

_Tonight I'll be in town. Usually I don't beg like this but I'm desperate. Nothing kills a man's pride more than financial problems. Nothing's ever been so bad before. Even though I really don't want to beg, I have to. _

_Love,_

_Sparrow_

To anyone else reading, this would seem like an email from a guy who was begging a former acquaintance for a job. Elizabeth knew, however, that if Jack ever called her by her Christian name and not something else, he was using code. He probably didn't have much time to work on this because the code was really bad. It was simple. If she put the first letter of the first word of each sentence together, she got this:

WASHINGTON TUNNELS

—

Eric was waiting. It had been days since he'd left that message with his brother's secretary. When was Balian going to reply? It wasn't normal for him _not_ to respond to his calls. Was something going on in Europe? Was _Balian_ in trouble? No, it couldn't be. Balian hadn't been in trouble ever since he'd made his name in the supe world several centuries ago. He tried to focus on the map which Sparrow had taken from the children's ward in the hospital whilst he'd been on his blood stealing run. It was a simple map, with all fifty-one states in different colours. Washington DC was yellow. He'd also taken a handful of thumb tacks, which were now being used as markers.

The Viking tried to focus, but in his mind, he was wondering what could possibly be keeping his brother. He refused to believe that Balian, for all his self-serving tendencies, would abandon _family. _

That only left one other possibility, and he didn't want to think about a foe who could take on the Sicilian himself.

—

Marie was taking stock of the supplies they had when all hell seemed to break loose somewhere near the entrance of the tunnels. She quickly set down her clipboard —stocktaking was a boring but necessary task— and ran to see what was going on.

New people had come into the tunnels. Now, that in itself was not unusual. People were always coming into the tunnels. However, these newcomers didn't look like something the cat had dragged in. They looked as if they came from every continent in the world; there were vampires, humans, weres, and they all looked as if they meant business.

Strangely enough, a group of well-armed vampires all dressed in no-nonsense black suits were being led by a man who was most definitely not a vampire, judging by his tan. His face was smooth, like that of a young man, but his deep brown eyes were those of a veteran of many wars and struggles.

Standing close by, but not quite next to them, was a group that couldn't look more different, being as diverse as a bunch of birds of paradise. They came from every continent on earth, from the coldest reaches of Northern Europe to the warm tropics of the Caribbean. Leading them was a beautiful blonde woman who had the swagger of a pirate and the grace of a lady. Behind her was an old man wearing a tri-corn hat that looked a lot like the hats in Jack's now incinerated collection. On his shoulder was a monkey with a purple vest.

The monarchs and the VIPs had come out from the council chamber —which was really a wider, blocked off tunnel— to see what was going on. At the back, Jack was trying to hide his bottle of rum underneath his jacket, all the while waving at the blonde woman and mouthing 'hide the rum' unsubtly to Logan. That Jack. He was an exception to the rule that men couldn't multitask.

The young-looking man leading the group of vampires stepped forward and bowed. "Milords and ladies," he said. "I come bearing a message from His Grace the Duke of Sicily and Italy, Lord of the Balkans, Provence and the Iberian Peninsula."

"Why hasn't my brother come himself?" asked Eric. A murmur rippled through the crowd. It was not common knowledge that Eric had a brother, much less one as powerful as the Sicilian.

"His Grace is otherwise occupied," said the man. "Recently we obtained intel about a virus being developed jointly by the governments of the United States and several nations in the European Union."

"What sort of virus?" demanded Eric.

"A virus that would, holistically, kill off all vampires," said the man. "The threat has since then been…eliminated, the lab has been destroyed and the people involved are in the custody of my liege."

If Eric was impressed, however, he gave no indication of it. He looked the man up and down. "What is your name, lieutenant?" he asked.

"Alexius Barisianus d'Ibelin, milord," said the man. "I am a ward in His Grace's household."

"Little Alex?" said Theodora. _Little_? The guy was an entire foot taller than her! He looked older than her too, although that wasn't hard. Theodora looked perpetually seventeen.

"Lady Theodora, I haven't grown any taller since I last saw you," he said.

"You looked like a beanstalk the last time I saw you," said Theodora.

"And you look beautiful, as always," said Alexius, taking her hand and kissing it. If Marie hadn't had her own Viking sex god, she might have been tempted by him. As it were, half the women were mesmerized by his old-fashioned manners and his roguish good looks.

"Well, that's very touching and all," said the other blonde woman, speaking up for the first time. "But I was under the impression that we were here for business. Jack, you can stop trying to hide that rum. It won't work."

"Ah, dear Lizzie, I have missed you," said Jack. He sounded almost genuine. He turned to the old man standing behind 'Lizzie'. "You, on the other hand…"

"We didnae miss you either, Sparra," said the old man, flashing a grin which revealed a whole lot of yellowed or rotten teeth. He scratched the monkey's chin. "Did we, Jack?"

—

'Lizzie's real name was Elizabeth Swann-Turner. At once, everything made a whole lot more sense. Elizabeth Swann-Turner was the owner of one of the largest shipping companies in the world. None of her ships had ever been attacked by pirates because, it turned out, she was the Pirate King. No one dared to ask her why she wasn't called the Pirate Queen instead for she was also the woman who had chained Jack to a ship to be eaten by a Kraken. No one wanted to cross someone like that.

The old man with the monkey was Jack's 'nemesis', as much as Jack could have a nemesis. Marie had thought that had been Cutler Beckett, but Jack informed her that Cutler Beckett hadn't stolen his ship twice. The old pirate, one Captain Hector Barbossa, had. Jack also loathed his taste in hairstyles and hats. Barbossa, on his part, couldn't give a damn about what Jack thought of him and he was as unforgiving of Jack's character as Jack was of his.

With their arrival, the mood in the tunnels suddenly became more animated. All of a sudden, they weren't just refugees and fugitives. They were an army in the making. Plans started forming. They took stock of what they had, and in actual fact, they had a quite a lot to work with. Submarines, nuclear warheads, undetectable secret islands, large cargo ships, fighter jets and lots of money hidden away in Swiss Bank accounts under false names.

Charts and diagrams were stuck to the walls. Everyone, it seemed, had something to offer. Shifters made for excellent spies. There were even shifters called 'skinwalkers' who could shift into human beings. Mystique immediately rounded those up and began training them, not just in shifting, but also in acting. It took a lot more than just putting on someone's skin to actually be them.

A war was inevitable. The humans had made sure of that. Sometimes, violence was necessary and for this, they could claim self-defence. Jesus might have taught his disciples to turn the other cheek, but none of them were Christ. Even Gabriel must have been in favour of fighting back or else he would have objected long ago.

Adrenaline coursed through Marie's blood as she realized what a momentous event she was witnessing. Eric sensed her excitement and he turned back to glance at her briefly. His fangs were down and his eyes sparkled at the prospect of finally fighting back. They could do this. This was an unprecedented event of incredible significance. Never before had supes ever been so united, not even during the wars with the fae.

—

The submarines, the ships, the supplies, and the weapons were all ready. Now all they needed was a plan for a real offensive. Sookie couldn't believe it was happening; it was finally happening. Sometimes, violence was a necessary part of life. They all understood that. This was self-defence.

Their first strike? A concentration camp for supes not far from the capital. It was in rural Maryland. Mystique hacked into the CIA to get the intel. The land was owned by the government, and they'd been carrying out top secret experiments there for years. At one point, it had been used by one Colonel William Stryker, who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. His body had never been found.

"Yeah, coz it's at the bottom of a Canadian lake," muttered Logan when he heard that.

Mystique shrugged. "Good riddance, I say," she said as she typed more code into the computer, pulling up all files on Stryker's projects, as well as the projects of his successor's, one Colonel Paul Hoskins who had worked with Stryker during the Vietnam War. As the files came up on the screen, one in particular caught Sookie's eye.

"What's Weapon X?" she asked. "I heard the soldiers thinking about it when they bombed Jack's house."

Mystique clicked on the file. X-rays came up; familiar looking x-rays.

All eyes turned to Logan. He simply stared at the screen. This was his life, presented in lists of numbers and cold scientific observations. There were photos of him, taken a long time ago. In some of them, he was with a beautiful brunette, and he looked happy and content. There were also letters addressed to Stryker from a woman called 'K. Silverfox', constantly updating him on the progress of the project.

Logan commandeered the computer and closed the file. "That's enough," he growled. "This isn't important. We need to find out what they're doing _now_." It was more than that. Sookie could sense it. She still couldn't read Logan's mind clearly, but sometimes, when he focused more than usual and broadcasted more loudly, she could pick up stray images and thoughts.

Seeing those files had resurrected some of Logan's memories. K. Silverfox was Kayla, the woman he loved and had been about to propose to. She caught an image of the two of them in a room that looked like an operating theatre. "I thought you were my moon, and I was your Wolverine," he was whispering in that memory.

And then Kayla was dead, and Logan had closed her eyes without knowing who she was. He'd put those two pieces of information together. Somehow, she had betrayed him. Somehow, he'd forgiven her. And then he'd lost his memory. Somehow…somehow… Then Logan pulled himself out of his morose thoughts, determined to face the future rather than the past. The way he saw it, he was now part of something that was much bigger than himself. People needed him, depended on him. He couldn't be so selfish as to waste time on searching for a past which he could not change. The telepath felt a surge of pride, even though she had no right to. Logan wasn't hers or anything. God, now she was beginning to sound like a possessive vampire…and in front of Logan's dad, no less! Logan's dad, the telepathic angel in human form.

A blush crept up Sookie's neck. Unfortunately, Logan was looking for something to distract himself from the file he'd just seen, and he happened upon her increased heart rate. "Focus, Sookie," he whispered. Did he know what she was thinking? Could he have guessed? She'd been told she was rather transparent and could be read like a book.

The vampire monarchs and the pirates were already planning how they were going to get inside the concentration camp. "What we need is a remote control spy plane," Eric remarked in an off-handish manner.

"I can get one," said Alexius in all seriousness. "Give me twenty four hours and you will have your state of the art spy plane, milord."

—

In twenty four hours, the supes were looking at something that most Americans had never seen before in real life. It was so small that it looked like a toy, and it was made of a similar material to the X-Jet, which made it undetectable on radars. It was also too small for satellites to notice it very clearly.

"How did you get one?" asked Sibylla as she ran her hands over its smooth grey surface, as if it were a jewel to be admired and not a spy plane.

"The question is, milady, why don't _you_ have one?" said Alexius. "I understand you had an arms deal with the American government."

"I have outdated anti-aircraft missiles along the Canadian border," said Sibylla. "Spy planes are too high profile."

"What did the Canadians ever do to you?" demanded Logan.

"This was salvaged from Iraq," said Alexius. "Our people got there before the Americans did when the insurgents shot this down. They were glamoured into telling us how they shot it, we fixed the errors, and now it works better than the ones that the American military uses." He sounded very proud of his organization's highly illegal achievements.

"I have a cache of machine guns," said Stan Davis, King of Texas, determined not to be outdone by some upstart Europeans. "We like our guns in Texas."

Chuck only smiled knowingly as the others boasted about what they had in the way of weapons. Logan knew he had one of the best weapons. Cerebro was as deadly as ten nuclear warheads. Their only problem in using it was that it was in New York and it was also unfinished. Still, there was a chance that Magneto and Chuck could build one here.

"And I have a jar of dirt," Sparrow volunteered.

—

There were three levels of security which they had to get through in the concentration camp. It was also mostly made of plastic and wood so Magneto wouldn't be able to attack it as effectively

Clouds shielded them from the light of the stars and the moon. They were not, in fact, going to make it up as they went along, as Jack had first suggested. A team of them were going to infiltrate the camp, and then once they were in, they would all attack the camp from inside and out. The freed supes would, no doubt, be half mad with hunger so they would need to find some way to control them.

That was where Charles came in. He led the infiltration team, along with Helen and Gabriel. There were only about thirty people on the team. Some were dressed as scientists or military personnel. Some were dressed as prisoners. Logan, of course, was a 'prisoner'.

"That's the only way you'll get past the metal detector," Charles said. "And we need you in there." That was why he was sitting in the back of a foul-smelling truck, with dirt and fake blood smeared all over him, and about a hundred yards of steel chains wrapped around him.

"I don't know why you volunteered to come along," he muttered to Sookie, who was sitting next to him with handcuffs on her wrists.

"You're going to need me…somehow," she said.

Sitting opposite them was Sam. Beside him was Alcide. Most of the 'prisoners' consisted of shifters, as all mutants were injected with the Cure after they entered the camp. Since Logan was now immune to it, that was not an issue for him. The last time Sookie had been shot with a cure dart, or three, she'd been fine. Shifters and weres were not mutants so they would have no problem with the Cure either.

"I guess you'll come in handy if I need to kiss someone," he teased.

She elbowed him. It was like elbowing a marble pillar. "I think you were just looking for an excuse last time," she said.

"Believe me, darling, if I wanna kiss someone, I don't need an excuse," said Logan. Despite the cold of the night air, Sookie began to feel rather warm. It had nothing to do with the actual temperature. Logan leaned down. His face was so close to hers…

'_You are the newest prisoners of a concentration camp_,' said Charles' voice inside her head. '_Please refrain from public displays of affection. It ruins the act.'_ Blood flooded Sookie's cheeks. Of _course_ Charles would know everything that was going on in the back of the truck. And also, they had a large audience of weres who had a very keen sense of smell. And then there was Gabriel, who was driving the truck. And the way Sam was looking at them…Oh lord!

'Concentrate, Sook,' she told herself. 'You are a spy. You are cool and calm and collected and you will _not_ drool over your cousin's best friend under any circumstance, not even if he is hotter than hell...'

'_He takes after me_,' said Gabriel's voice in her mind. God, could she not have a little bit of privacy with her dirty daydreams even inside her own head? And wasn't an archangel supposed to be a little more serious?

The truck was stopped at the gate of the camp by heavily armed guards, who asked what they were doing.

"We have Weapon X in the back," Sookie heard Gabriel say. "Colonel Hoskins ain't gonna be happy if the delivery's delayed."

"Weapon X? How did you subdue him? Senator Newlin said he recovered from the Cure."

"You just need to give him a larger dose, that's all," said Charles.

"Really?" the guard sounded doubtful.

"Yes, really, now let us through," said Charles.

"Did he just…" Alcide whispered.

"Yup," said Logan. "If you wanna keep your mind, bub, don't smoke in his house, or else he'll make you think you're a chihuahua."

—

The inside of the camp smelled of death and antiseptic. In some ways, it was like a hospital, only the people who came in here never got out. Soundproofed walls muffled the screams and cries of the prisoners, but not entirely. Some of their entreaties filtered through to Logan. Some of them sounded very young indeed. He clenched his fists. He needed the guards to lead him to where they were being kept first, so he needed to keep up the act of being cured. In all his years, the Wolverine had never thought that playing sick would be so difficult.

They were dragging him along the corridor. Well, Sparrow was talking and making rude redneck-ish remarks. God forbid he do any actual labour. The other two soldiers, who were actually soldiers and not undercover supe agents, were doing the dragging. Logan tried to remember every turn they took, forming a plan of the base inside his head. He might not like thinking, but for some reason, he was good at this sort of thing. Perhaps it had something to do with some prior military training that he could not remember.

Sookie kept on whispering to him telling him that things were going to be fine. Now, she might not think she was a good liar, but damn, she could put on an act. When they tried to take him from her, she started screaming. '_Is this too over the top?'_ she asked him in his head.

'_It would be perfect if you're my girlfriend,'_ he replied, not in a neutral way. He heard her heart rate increase. He liked the effect he had on her. If they ever got out of this mess alive —this whole war, meaning, not just this raid— then he was going to do something about all of that. Or, perhaps, now was as good a time as any. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? Gah, he wasn't good with this relationship stuff. At all. One night stands were simple.

Sookie glared at him. Oh, she must have read his mind. Well, there was no point in denying things that he'd done. He wasn't ashamed of his one night stands. Those women had understood that they could not tame him, and they hadn't wanted to tame him. His wildness and his unpredictability were the things that attracted them like insects to a Venus Flytrap. Not that he was comparing himself to a Venus Flytrap.

"Stupid bitch doesn't know what's good for 'er," he heard Jack say in his sleaziest voice. Here was someone else who deserved an Oscar. "Whaddya want with that beastie, eh?" _Beastie_? He and Sparrow were going to have a nice long talk after this. That talk was going to involve claws.

"She ain't bad looking," said one of the real guards. "Maybe you should teach her what it's like to be with a real man."

"Nah," said Jack. "I ain't gonna sully myself with a mutie bitch, cured or not. Me, I prefer real women."

Logan risked cracking open an eye. They'd come where all the mutants were being held. The weres were being kept in another part of the camp. He was roughly shoved down a flight of stairs and into a dimly lit room crammed full of mutants of all ages. It reeked of bodily fluids and human waste and the first stages of decomposition. The prisoners hadn't been in here long enough to attain that starved look, but he recognized that look of hopelessness in their eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" Jack said suddenly. That was the code word.

Logan roared and leapt to his feet. The chains fell off him. They'd been held together with thread. At the same time, Jack swung his rifle at the guard's head and then proceeded to use him as a human shield.

"Don't shoot!" the man was shouting to his comrades.

"If you call this in, mates, I'm gonna shoot you in the balls," said Jack from behind the first unfortunate guard. "I'm a real good shot so I'd be quiet if I were you, unless you wanna sing soprano for yer church choir. It ain't nuthin' personal, boys. I jus' don't like you, savvy?"

At first, the mutant prisoners were completely confused about what was going on. "Go!" Logan shouted to them.

It was as if they all woke up from their stupor at the same time. One moment, they were staring at him, and the next, he almost had to leap out of the way as they all rushed up the stairs, not caring what they stood on or who they stood on. The claws came out with a 'snikt', causing them to do a double take. "Kids and pregnant ladies first, and then the other ladies, and_ then_ the men!" he roared. He was old fashioned like that. There was no point in having a rescue mission if most of them got trampled to death.

—

Marie waited for the Professor to give them the go ahead. Hidden in the long grass under the cover of darkness, they were virtually invisible. She could hardly believe this was finally happening. There was no going back now. Then again, their path of retreat had been burned by the government a long time ago. They could either accept it and die, or fight and gain a chance for survival.

She glanced at Pam, who lay on the grass beside her. If, a year ago, someone had told her she'd be fighting side by side with Pam Ravenscroft, she'd have laughed herself silly. It had only been a year, but so much had happened. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"I'm always ready for a fight," said Pam. She paused. "If we die here today, I want you to know that you're one of the few breathers who don't make me sick. And yes, that's about as close to a compliment as I'm going to give anyone so savour the moment, little succubus."

"Thanks, Pam," said Marie. She would have added something witty, but the Professor, at that moment, gave them the signal. A terrifying chorus of battle cries was lifted. Guns blazed. The fighter jets had not yet arrived from Europe, so they did not have any aerial bombardment. They charged for the camp. The skeleton guard there were not prepared and it only took a few coils of barbed wire to take them down, courtesy of one metal mangling mutant.

Magneto was not finished. The twenty feet high barbed wire fences came down with a groan. All the wires freed themselves from the posts. They moved as if they were live serpents, wrapping themselves around terrified humans and strangling them. Those who escaped the barbed wire were taken down by furious vampires and weres. Blood sprayed everywhere as throats were torn out and backs were broken as if they were nothing but toothpicks.

"Yargh!" A sword flashed and a man fell to the ground, clutching his neck were blood was bubbling up. That Barbossa might look old, but he certainly didn't act it. He was nimble, and his aim was pretty darn good.

His monkey, too, did more than pull its own weight. As a man was about to attack his master from behind, the little creature leapt at him with a screech and latched onto his face before proceeding to claw his eyes out. No matter how many times the man struck the monkey, it simply would not die. Nor would it let go. The man screamed. Blood poured down his face. The monkey continued to dig. It was not a pleasant way to go down.

Marie dived for the ground when a soldier aimed at her. She felt the wind as the bullet flew over her. She didn't give the man another chance to aim. Her finger tightened on the trigger of her illegally obtained machine gun. She knew her aim was good. She got straight A's when it came to marksmanship. The man went down when the bullet struck his Kevlar vest, driving his breath from his lungs. Just because it hadn't killed him didn't mean it hadn't hurt him. Before she even straightened herself, Sabretooth leapt into the picture and tore the man's head from his shoulders. The spinal column was still attached to the skull.

"Perfection," purred Sabretooth.

And she'd thought Russell Edgington had had issues.


	46. Rising Flames

**A/N: **I am back! I'm sorry I kept you all waiting for so long. You don't want to know the details, because that's all very boring. Suffice to say I am at the point where I am waiting for my life to start, which it will, when I emigrate next year.

**Chapter 46: Rising Flames**

Logan charged through the corridors, leading the freed mutants. Chuck was telling him where to turn, and he himself had memorized the turns that his 'captors' had taken. The base was a maze of sterile white hallways. However, the stench of death and despair was always there. A lot of people had died here already. They passed by empty cages which, up until a couple of moments ago, had housed hundreds of weres and shifters in horrific cramped conditions which would have made PETA activists furious.

There were very few human soldiers remaining inside the base. Most of them were outside, doing battle with the combined supe army. He turned onto another corridor lined with heavy silver doors and windows of one-way glass. Inside were x-rays and microscopes and all manners of machinery. He didn't need to be a genius to know what was happening here. He'd been in enough labs in his lifetime.

At the end of that corridor, the mutants rejoined the weres. Most of them were naked. Many looked half-starved and it was taking all of Chuck's efforts to make sure they didn't start eating each other or something rather. That would have been terribly unpleasant.

A burst of machine gun fire struck him, sending him stumbling backwards, but only for a moment. Logan ignored the bullets that tore through his flesh as he leapt at the man who had fired them. All six of his claws were fully extended. He plunged the lengths of metal into the man's chest. The Kevlar vest could not protect the idiot who'd thought he could attack the Wolverine and get away with it. The claws went right through his muscles and bones and organs. Logan yanked out his claws. Blood spurted onto his face and he spat when some of it got into his mouth.

He didn't waste any time in thinking about the man he'd just killed. There were more where that one had come from. He dropped and swept out his leg, tripping up two of the soldiers before they could shoot him in the head. Just because it was totally ineffective didn't mean he _enjoyed_ getting shot in the head. Quite the contrary, in fact. He kicked the guns away from the soldiers. Sookie caught one of them.

"You know how to use that, luv?" Jack asked Sookie as he eyed the machine gun in her hands.

"I've fired one before and don't call me love," Sookie snapped at him. As if to prove her point, she drove the butt of her gun into the groin of a soldier who'd been meaning to attack her from behind. The sweet southern belle really wasn't so sweet after all, which was just as well. Logan liked a little bit of spice.

"Eunuchy," said Jack with a little grimace.

"That ain't a word, bub," said Logan. "Now let's get out of this shithole before we get turned into hotdogs."

"I'm no hotdog!" protested Sparrow.

"Fine. You're Kentucky Fried Sparrow."

* * *

Battle surged. The scent of blood permeated the air, almost driving him to insanity. This was his element. This was where he thrived. Eric's sword cleaved through the skull of yet another foolhardy human who thought paradise awaited the man who could slay the largest vampire. "One hundred and seventy nine!" he declared.

"That's morbid, Eric!" shouted Marie over the rattle of machine guns.

"It's a competition," said Pam. "Eighty four!"

"You are very much behind, my child," said Eric, almost gleefully. He had no excuse. He knew his behaviour would be considered barbaric, but this was a fair battle, where both sides had an equal chance of winning, if they had met on a battlefield instead of in an ambush. However, there was no such thing as fairness in war. Nor were there rules. Well, not in the supe world. He grunted as a bullet tore through his flesh. Sharp pain lanced through him. He moved through it, letting it drive him. Just because he healed quickly did not mean it didn't hurt.

The man took aim again, but before he could fire, he was down with a bullet in his forehead. When Eric fought, most people paid attention only to his sword. Granted, it was very noticeable, but that didn't mean that his enemies should ignore the gun in his other hand. This was a different world from the one he'd been born into, and Eric Northman hadn't survived for so long by remaining the same. He had no love for guns, but he would never deny that they were useful.

The supes pushed through the humans' ranks, using their nature-given strength. A humvee was thrown into the air by a blast of magic. Gravity worked its magic a few seconds later when it fell onto the human soldiers, scattering and crushing them. Perhaps Balian had had a reason in sending that boy Alexius. A wizard certainly was very useful in such a situation.

* * *

The sirens blared and the lights were flashing. Logan found himself standing outside the compound, breathing in cool night air tainted with the metallic tang of blood which made his inner beast rear up. It wanted blood. It always wanted blood. Perhaps he wasn't so different from a vampire after all.

He threw himself into the melee, not caring that his enemies had machine guns and Kevlar armour. His claws penetrated the skull of an unlucky man. He was baptized by blood. It drenched him. Every inch of his body was covered with it. The metallic scent drove the beast inside him into a frenzy. He tasted their fear, their hopes, their dreams as they poured out with the blood. It was intoxicating in a terrifying way.

Bone splinters and pale pink semi-solid matter covered his claws. He promptly plunged them into another man's chest, feeling them go through armour, muscle and bone. He heard the man's heart stop beating and felt the life leave him. There was a kind of twisted thrill in knowing that you had the power to decide whether someone lived or died. The beast revelled in it. Logan didn't want to think about it. He killed because he had to survive, and if he didn't kill, he'd be killed. There had never been a time in his life when he hadn't been hunted, which was why he'd been so sure Magneto had been hunting him when, in fact, the metal mangling militant mutant had been after Marie. And the more he killed, the more other people wanted to kill him. It was a cruel cycle, but what could he do? He was pretty sure he'd been born this way.

The Fellowship and government soldiers were being pushed back rapidly. The supes closed in on them until they were completely surrounded. They might have had the superior weapons —that was, until Sibylla and the other monarchs had their secret weapons' caches shipped here— but they were no match for so many angry supes.

A mist of blood filled the air. Death and violence was sometime inevitable. Logan hated it, but this was his life, his gift, and his curse. He was a highly evolved killer with weapons to match. He pulled his claws out of a dead soldier and charged on. The only way to prevent more death was to ensure this battle ended as soon as possible. That could not be achieved without more killing. It was a vicious cycle.

* * *

Victory. They had victory! Marie felt light headed with excitement as the remaining Fellowship soldiers and scientists were rounded up and divested of their weapons. Many of them had died and the others had mostly fled. Their fear and hatred could not dampen her spirits. Finally, after running for so long, they were getting somewhere. Jesus might have told His followers to turn the other cheek, but damn, she was no saint and she'd had enough of turning her cheek.

All around her, people were cheering and hugging each other. For a brief moment, weres and vampires forgot they didn't like each other and the vampires forgot they didn't actually really like anyone. Marie searched through the crowds. There was one person she wanted to see in particular, and it wasn't so hard to find him. He was glorious, even when covered in the blood of his enemies. In fact, while it might be completely macabre, he had never looked more glorious then now, standing as the victorious king on a battlefield, covered by the blood of his enemies. His unsheathed sword gleamed in the light of the scattered fires. His eyes met hers across the sea of corpses. He grinned, and before she knew it, she was in his arms and his lips were on hers, hungry and insistent.

She reciprocated with just as much fierceness. Pride surged within her. She was proud of him, proud of herself, proud of all of them. It was an achievement that could not be overlooked. Somehow, against all odds, all these people who didn't even like each other had managed to band together and do something that might just change the odds of this fight for survival. In fact, this victory was just as improbable as a mutant girl and a vampire king.

"We won, my warrior queen," said Eric when he finally let go of her. "We won."

"I never doubted you," she said. "But I'm not your queen."

"That can be changed, if you so wish," he whispered huskily.

He left her standing there, her mouth slack with shock. Surely he didn't intend to make _her_ the Queen-in-exile of Louisiana? No, he was probably just thinking of the upcoming bonding ceremony which had no set date now that they were so busy with surviving. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Eric —she'd daydreamed about it several times— but she couldn't imagine he would take himself out of the marriage game like this. He might have promised not to marry anyone, but simply teasing the other monarchs by making them think he might be open to marriage proposals could give him a lot of leverage.

But…what if he really meant to marry her? As in properly? The thought made her dizzy and lightheaded. She was still thinking about it when they got back to the tunnels. Luckily, taking stock of their ammunition supplies was a pretty robotic job and she could do it without thinking. It wasn't so different from taking stock of Fangtasia souvenirs.

"I never thought I'd say this," said Sookie, surprising Marie from behind. The telepath was lucky Marie didn't shoot her. "But Eric Northman is _not_ a complete asshole, it seems." The older woman's eyes were glowing, and her face was covered with the tell-tale signs of beard burn. Who the hell had she been kissing that put her in such a good mood? Usually, Sookie wasn't the type that got excited over bloody victories.

"I thought you were going to stop reading my mind without my permission," said Marie.

"I tried, Cous, but you were broadcasting very loudly," said Sookie with a smirk. "I'm happy for you. He really does care, doesn't he?"

"I've known that for a while," said Marie. She was dying to ask Sookie what had made her happier than the cat that ate the cream and the goldfish as well. Finally, the telepath caved.

"I hope you're not going to be mad at me," she said sheepishly. "But Logan and me, we—"

"_Logan_?" Marie all but screeched. The political complexities of marrying a vampire king were all but forgotten. It took all her willpower not to seize her cousin by the arms, sit her down and force her to tell her everything, down to the very last sickening mushy detail. Although, knowing Logan, there was probably minimal mush, but _lots_ of x-rated material. Had he and Sookie gotten that far yet?

"He's a great guy, Marie," said Sookie, crossing her arms. "You of all people should know that."

"I know that better than anyone else, but you and Logan…"

"Is there something wrong about that?"

Marie couldn't put her finger on it. Rationally speaking, there was nothing wrong with it at all. Logan and Sookie both deserved some happiness, and if they could find it with each other, then shouldn't she be happy for them? But Marie knew Logan and she knew Sookie too. Logan came with a whole lot of baggage and Sookie had the tendency to run away from problems, or at least try and pretend they didn't exist. Logan needed someone who could take him and love him for what he was, not just the idea of him.

She checked to make sure both her gloves were on before dragging Sookie over to a more secluded corner of the tunnels, behind the boxes of grenades and bullets. "Look," said Marie. "I'll make this as clear as I can. I want the both of you to be happy. You deserve it, and if you can make each other happy, then I'm happy for you, but I swear, Sook, if you hurt him, you'll answer to me."

"Shouldn't you be saying this to him rather than me?" asked Sookie.

"Because he's a man?"

"That, and I'm your cousin and he's indestructible."

Marie sighed. "So it would seem, but Sook, he's fragile. Jean Grey already broke his heart, and I don't think he can take any more of that."

"You really love him, don't you?"

"More than anyone else in the world, perhaps with the exception of Eric, and even that's dubious. Logan took me in when I had nowhere else to go. He's been on my side in everything from day one. Even if the whole world turned its back on me, I know he's the one person I can always rely on to be on my side."

"Listen, Marie. I know how important he is to you, and I know how important he is to me. I owe him my life. I would never hurt him, I swear. You don't have to worry."

"I know you wouldn't hurt him intentionally, but — I don't know how to put this in a gentler way, I'm sorry— but you have a tendency to ignore problems when they don't gel with your definition of a normal life."

Sookie gaped at her, probably with the intention of protesting. Marie ploughed on before her cousin could say anything.

"I'm entrusting him to you, and I swear, I will tell him all about your infatuation with Winnie the Pooh products if you so much as mention any of this to him."

"What, you don't want me to tell your best friend you threatened to kill me if I didn't treat him well?" asked Sookie.

"Logan's a very masculine guy with old fashioned ideas of what he should or should not be. Unless you want to help him nurse a bruised pride, you'll keep quiet. Trust me, as much as I love him, I tend to stay well clear of him when he's like that."

Sookie grinned. "I promise," she said. "I won't hurt him, and I won't let anyone else hurt him either."

* * *

He hated it down in these dank, dark tunnels. He hated being surrounded by abominations of nature. Most of all, he hated that he was counted as being one of them. Jake Purifoy was a werewolf. He hadn't chosen to be one but that was what he was. All his life, he'd just wanted to be normal. Instead, he'd shifted in the school car park on the night of his senior prom, scaring his girlfriend so badly his parents had had to hire a vampire to erase her memories of that night.

Jake just wanted to fit in. Was that so much to ask? He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him. They were all too busy with whatever business they had. He made his way towards the entrance of the tunnels and slowly climbed up the ladders, carefully listening to make sure no one caught him. Once he reached the surface, he ran. If he gave the humans what they wanted, then perhaps they would realize he belonged with them.

The night was quiet. No one frequented this part of the city. It had 'Danger! Keep Out!' pretty much plastered over every barbed wire fence and abandoned factory building. Powdery drizzle dampened his hair and created puddles on the broken concrete. Rain was good. It washed away his scent trail so no one would be able to follow him.

It wasn't hard to find the local police station.

* * *

Steve Newlin could almost pity the boy standing in front of him, if he could even be called a boy. He was an unnatural sub-human, just like all the rest of them, really. At least this one knew his place in the world. The sorry creature was staring at them hopefully, with a little bit of trepidation, as it told them everything about the missing fugitives; about one thousand of them.

"Ingenious," he said. "Hiding right beneath our noses."

"They have weapons, sir," said the wolf-boy. Newlin didn't bother to remember his name. He was just another future piece of dead meat, although he didn't know it yet. "Machine guns and missiles and a spy plane."

"A spy plane? How did they get a spy plane?" demanded Colonel Hoskins.

"They have illegal networks everywhere," said Jake. "I didn't get close enough to hear anything, but one of the vamper bitches, she's got anti-aircraft missiles and she used to have an arms contract with the government or something."

Newlin and Hoskins looked at each other and grinned. Sybille Royale. They'd hit jackpot. For so long, she'd been the untouchable one. All the other rich vamps could be taken down, but Royale, with her pharmaceuticals and arms contract, had had so much sway over congress she might as well have been one of the members. Not anymore. They all wanted to get their hands on her money. Unfortunately, she'd squirreled it away somewhere.

"We get Royale and we've won half the battle already," said Hoskins.

"What about Weapon X?" asked Newlin. "He's something to be reckoned with."

"He's one creature," said Hoskins. He turned to Jake. "Who else is in those tunnels?"

"A lot of people I don't know. Oh, Elizabeth Swann-Turner from Swann-Turner Enterprises. Um…some woman they call Helen of Sparta? Everyone is scared of her. Eric Northman, king of Louisiana—"

"King?" asked Newlin, leaning forward. "What do you mean by 'king of Louisiana'?"

"Oh, the vampers have kings and queens in every state. Northman's the new king of Louisiana. I think the vamper bitch with the missiles was queen of New York, and Russell Edgington was the king of Mississippi."

"I guess it's safe to say the demon leadership is all in those tunnels," said Newlin. "What do you think, Colonel? Do you think we can get authorization to launch a strike?"

"It's DC, and I doubt the Senate would be keen on bombing it, but I'll see what I can do," said Hoskins. "We could seal the tunnels and firebomb them. Even if it doesn't kill them all, it would take down at least half of them, and the rest of them…well, they'd have to eat sometime, I'd imagine."

"I like the sound of that," said Newlin. "So…son, where exactly are the fugitives sequestered?"

* * *

Theodora had a bad feeling in her stomach. She didn't know why, but she didn't like it, and if her past experiences had taught her anything, it was to trust her instincts, at least when it came to gut feelings. Somehow, she was always wrong about romantic partners, but that was another thing entirely. She didn't end up as part of the High Council because she was a fool.

All right, perhaps her father and her maker had had something to do with it. Balian of Ibelin, and now of Sicily, had been a kingmaker in life, and he was still the kingmaker in undeath.

The daywalker stalked through the dark damp tunnels, trying to find the source of her unease. There was a smell…and the familiar high pitched sound of an intricate bug. Most people —other vampires included— would not have recognized it, but Theodora had used enough spy equipment to know what it was.

"Hello there," she said as she approached a group of young weres. They parted to let her through. They didn't know who she was exactly, but they could tell she was important. Sometimes, it was a bonus; at others, it was a hindrance. It would be difficult to get them to talk to her if they thought she was one of the people in high places, which she was.

"Hi," said one of the boys cautiously. He was checking her out, scanning her from head to toe. She heard his heartbeat quicken just a little. He liked what he saw. Boys. They didn't really vary all that much. That was why she preferred men.

"Whatcha talking about?" she asked.

"Just wonderin' how long we're going to have to stay down here, that's all," said the boy. "You're one of the VIPs, aren't you?"

"Not really," said Theodora with a shrug. She wasn't really all that interested in what they had been discussing, but if she could stay long enough, perhaps she might be able to pinpoint where exactly the sound from the bug was coming from. Her eyes lit on another boy who reeked of nervousness and adrenaline. He shrank back when she looked at him, and his eyes darted about wildly, looking for an exit.

She swooped down on him and grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back so sharply that she almost dislocated the limb. A thin wire could be felt beneath his shirt. It was taped to his body, and it led to a bug that was both a mic and a GPS tracking device. It was one of the latest technologies. Government issue.

She crushed the bug beneath her heel, and then dragged the boy away, whilst his shocked friends watched on.

The boy struggled, but she was eight hundred years old and she was an ex-vampire. She could deal with an adolescent were who hated vampires and his own kind so much that he would betray them to a government that wanted to exterminate them all.

The rest of them were in another of their interminable meetings, arguing about what they should do next now that they had one proper victory under their belt. They looked up and stopped talking when they saw her.

"Sister, what is going on?" asked Sibylla.

"Ask him," said Theodora. "We've been breached."

There was silence. "You can't just go around accusing my pack members of betraying us," growled the Jackson packmaster. "You'd better have proof, girl."

"Is this good enough for you?" asked Theodora as she produced the crushed tracking device and dropped it on the makeshift table, on top of all their maps and blueprints.

* * *

Panic. It surrounded her, making Sookie feel sick as she absorbed all the fear around her as well as her own. How much time did they have? What had the government planned? Could they ever win?

"Come on, Sook!" shouted Jason. "We gotta get moving!" Her brother grabbed her arm and dragged her in the direction the crowd was heading, towards the exit to the ocean. It was daytime, and the perfect time for the enemy to attack, because the vampires would only be able to operate underground. If they were to survive the exodus, they were going to have go into the water in coffins and tarps. They could only hope that the attack would not come so soon, but no one had any idea when it would come. It could be tonight, it could be tomorrow night, it could be the next minute.

People surged through the tunnels, all desperate to get away from the place that half an hour ago, had been the only sanctuary in the world. It was like being pushed along by a flood, as people all tried to make their way to the exit. One could only hope that nobody was waiting to take them down there.

She and Jason joined up with Marie, who was directing people and trying to maintain some semblance of order in the chaos, even though she was as terrified as the rest of them. But she put on a mask of calm and spoke in soothing tones as she assured the terrified refugees that yes, they were going to be safe soon, and that the allied leaders knew exactly what they were doing.

In her heart, however, she doubted anyone knew what to do. The humans were forcing them on a path of no return. Well, perhaps they'd been on that path for a long while already and no one had realized it until today.

"At this rate, we'll never reach the ocean by dusk," Marie remarked to Sookie and Jason when they finally pushed their way through the crowd and got to her side.

"We have to try," said Sookie. "If Theodora's estimates are correct…"

"I hope she's just being a pessimist," said Marie, "but from what I'm thinking, the government will act as soon as they realize that they're no longer getting a signal from the tracking device. It will take them a bit of time to prepare and all that, but I don't think it would take too long."

She glanced further up the column of people. They were all carrying what meagre belongings they had. Crates of supplies were being pushed along on old wheelbarrows. Crying children were quickly hushed. Logan was there, pointing them in the right direction. These people recognized the Wolverine —he'd rescued more than just a few of them, after all— and his presence seemed to calm them somewhat. Sookie felt a surge of pride. Many people might not think much of Logan. He wasn't the wisest, the smartest, or the strongest, but there was something about him that distinguished him from all other men. Perhaps it was that inherent goodness in him.

"Where's Eric?" asked Sookie as she shuffled along with the crowd.

"At the front, leading them," said Marie. "He's always telling me that he doesn't know how to be king, but I think he's doing just fine. Helen and Theodora are bringing up the rear. I think we're about halfway there."

Sookie was inclined to disagree. Giving the rate of movement —about an inch per second, she would estimate— it would be a miracle if they were a quarter of the way there before the attack came!

All right, maybe she was just being a little pessimistic, but the past few days hadn't given her much cause to look on the bright side. True, they might have won one victory, and they might have a state of the art spy plane, but how was that going to help them now? They were just a rabble of people desperately seeking any way to survive. It didn't matter that some of them used to be the most powerful monarchs on the planet.

It was depressing, and she knew that if she continued to think that way, she might as well give up and die now. It would be easier and more painless. But deep down, she really wanted to believe that they had a chance, that perhaps, she would live to see another dawn. And maybe…when this was all over, she and Logan could get a nice little house somewhere out in the countryside, with a porch swing and a large yard for the kids to play in. And they could forget about this craziness, this war, this hate.

As if on cue, she found Logan walking beside her. "We'll get through this," he murmured. "I swear."

"On what?" asked Sookie. "You don't believe in God."

"But I believe in us," said Logan. "And we've been through so much already. What's one more thing? The fact that we are still alive means we are survivors, don't it?"

She was about to reply, but screams erupting from behind her made her forget everything she was going to say.

* * *

Soldiers in Kevlar armour wielding machine guns and flame throwers blocked their retreat. Not that Theodora had any intention of heading that way. She glanced at Helen. The ancient Greek vampire nodded. She'd expected this.

"Well, here goes nothing," she whispered as she took up a defensive position, with only a few dozen other supes supporting her. The rest were trying to speed up the fleeing crowd while preventing them from trampling each other. They might not have the numbers, but God be damned if they weren't going to put up a fight worth remembering.

The first line of soldiers fell under a hail of bullets. They fired back, hitting rebel soldier and civilian alike. Pain erupted in Theodora's thigh as one of them struck her. She fell to one knee, but forced herself up again. No Ibelin ever bent their knee to those inferior to them, and she was not going to be the first. Her father had, once upon a time, faced down an army a hundred times the size of his own, and he had negotiated a truce. Not that there was any way of negotiating a truce with these fanatics.

The sounds of the crowd were growing fainter as they disappeared down the passage, hopefully to freedom. She held down the trigger until all her bullets were spent, and then the men were surrounding her. One of them came too close. She snatched away his weapons and proceeded to use it to mow down more of her enemies, but they were too many, and she had been weakened too much. That was the downside to being an ex-vampire. She healed so much slower, and she tired much more quickly too.

Was that someone calling her name? Where were they? It sounded like her father, or perhaps her mother. Or was it Sibylla? Or Eric? She couldn't tell anymore. Blackness crept in on her. The pain was fading away. So was the noise.

Her last thought was of how furious her father would be if anything ever happened to her.


End file.
